


Jumping Feet First

by SunnyD545



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Drama, F/M, No One Knows if it's Canon, Romance, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 55,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6160126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyD545/pseuds/SunnyD545
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River. (Also, I don't own Soul Eater.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Her: 1

**Her: 1**

She could do this. Really, it wouldn’t be that hard. All she had to do is lean forward, off center her balance, and then let go of the railing. Gravity would do the rest, easy, and then the rapid currents would finish the job. Just lean forward, put all the weight in her upper body, and let go.

It is the last step she seems to struggle with.

It would appear, despite her body’s near-unanimous decision to jump off Death City Bridge, her left hand is too stubborn to follow through. It is like the thing is arguing for a recount of the decision. Surely this isn’t her only option.

But it is her only option. All others would never be able to offer the same sweet satisfaction that death could. All loose ends would not need to be tied up, she would never have to think about her father ever again. She wouldn’t have to take a blind eye to any thing he did anymore. The bastard.

Her body shakes at the thought of him, and she leans even farther over the edge. That two-timing man-whore. She isn’t the type to cuss, but after everything he had done to her—to her mother—anything less than colorful profanity would be too nice. The girl cannot forgive him. Every day he cheated on her mother, flirting shamelessly at work and meeting floozies late at night. It was almost like he wasn’t bothering to hide it, and maybe he wasn’t. The man is an obvious moron. Why her mother ever married him is a mystery to her, and apparently her mother had forgotten the reason too.  
Her parents’ divorce had broken her more than she wants to admit. Although there was joy that her mother no longer had to suffer at home, girl felt betrayed. Her mother had left both child and ex-husband behind, disappearing into the world with an airy promise of coming back for her daughter. But she didn’t. And her father just continued his filthy was, ignoring her every day of the week just to fuck some harlot. Men are disgusting. They just have one thing on their minds, her father has proven that much. After ten years of this, with no other options, the daughter of a missing woman and a man-whore has decided to solve all her problems with one jump.

If her left hand would just get with the program.

She closes her eyes, deciding she should count backwards. Her left hand will let go in ten. Just ten. Now nine, eight, seven, six, fi—

“W-wait!”

A gruff voice, almost lost to the night wind, interrupts her. She glances over her shoulder to see a guy about her age, bundled in a leather jacket, his pale hair waving like mad. He stands in a defensive and cautious stance about ten or so feet from her. He looks upset, eyes flashing under the street lights.

“Don’t do it,” he continues, realizing he has her attention. “For Death’s sake, just don’t let go of that rail.”

She wants to ask him what he is doing here. It had to be close to three in the morning. She chose this time because she knew her father would be asleep, and no one would be around the bridge to see her misery. Except for mister tall, bleached, and leathery, it would seem. Instead, she asks him what time it is.

He looks a little lost at the question, but gives a quick glance at his wrist, before his vision bounces back up to her. It’s like he is afraid she would jump if he took his eyes off her. “Something like four.”

Apparently Left Hand had been stalling.

She twists herself around the ledge to stare at him. He advances towards her a few inches, eyes honed in on her own and motions slow. “Actually, I have no idea what time it is,” he admits with a pause. Another small step forward and he holds up the wrist he had just glanced at, using the other hand to reveal nothing up his sleeve. “I don’t have a watch.”

Despite the whole oddity of the situation, she snorts out a laugh. He’s such a dork.

His body relaxes a bit at the sound, shoulders dropping as a small, hesitant grin comes across his face. She notices his teeth, which seem much more pointy and canine than what teeth should look like. “Was driving home, so it should be close to four. I get off work at like three forty-five, well it’s supposed to be three but the other—” He stops his ramble with a head shake. He then tilts his head a bit, and he seems to be trying for something more comical. “Why the hell else would anyone want to be up before the sun?”

The answer she thinks of blindsides her. She had almost forgotten that she is trying to commit suicide at four in the morning. “To jump off a bridge.” Her voice is soft, hesitant. It would seem mystery guy and Left Hand are gaining some votes from the rest of her, because her right hand has reached out and secured itself to the railing. She’s leaning forward, but this time it’s to rest against the supporting metal.

The man frowns at her comment. “That doesn’t seem like something you should do at any time of the day.”

“No one was supposed to be here.” It is all she can think to say.

He doesn’t respond for a moment. Instead he surveys her, examines her face for any sort of clue. It feels like he’s looking right through her everything in an attempt to see just her. “I’m here.” And somehow those words are enough to make her want to cry. She’s never been the type to cry, but she can feel something wet streak down her cheek, just once. Her shoulders shake as her head ducks because she’s absolutely miserable right now. He is right, he is here, and the thought is far more comforting than it should be. For Death’s sake, he is a total stranger—and male too— but she wanted to believe that he is on her side. Well, her left hand’s side, anyway.

Darn it, Left Hand is totally winning this.

“What’s your name?” She looks up to see him much closer than before, and she can see his eyes are a nice shade of burgundy. They look warm, comforting, saddened but also a little hopeful. Maybe that last bit was her own feelings.

“Maka.”

“Maka, huh.” He grins, and it looks more confident now, like he is aware that almost every part of her body has switched sides on her and is joining Left Hand on the vote for living. She doesn’t like the idea that he could be smug about it, but he seems to also have some genuine happiness about her change of heart. “I’m Soul Eater.” His voice almost sounds like he’s bragging about it.  
She huffs at his new found cockiness, her arms crossing. She wants to tell him to shut up, and to ask what kind of name “Soul Eater” could possibly be anyway, but she loses her balance now that her hands are crossed. She slips backwards.

That’s right. She’s standing on the edge of a bridge. She was going to jump off before her left hand and mystery guy interrupted. Now, just when she thought otherwise, she’s falling.

She’s such a stubborn idiot.

“Fuck!” She feels two large clamps attach to her wrists, and her head snaps up to see that it’s mystery guy’s hands. He’s leaning over the other side of the rail, body bent and eyes panicking. “Maka, my God, you idiot!”

She feels a little panic at the situation, but she feels more anger at his insult. It’s kind of weird, but she decides that she can’t be made to judge herself at this moment. “Shut up, Soul!” She secures a replicated hold onto him as he slowly starts to raise her up. His eyes are squinting, his jaw is hard; his whole face looks tense. She suddenly wonders how much she weighs.

He gets her up high enough that she can push her knees up onto the edge. His hands switch to new positions as she raises up as cautious as she can. Soul doesn’t loosen his grip for a moment. She stops once she is back to the same position she had been standing before, but he doesn’t let go of her upper arms.

“Oh no,” he pants out. “Get on this side of the rails.”

She scowls at his demand, but finds she has little choice but to comply as he moves his hands to her waist and begins to lift. This close, she can tell he’s got quite a few inches on her, plus enough muscles to probably do the job himself, so she might as well help out. She gets over the rail with little incident, boots hitting the concrete with a solid thump. She stares at the firm surface for a moment, then looks up to Soul. “There, happy?”

Her vision fuzzes for focus a bit, because he is far too close. His attempt to get her to safety left him mere inches from her. She tenses, eyes going wide. Warning signals go off in her brain, telling her to get ready for something sleazy. She is very much aware that both his hands still have a firm attachment to her waist.

He seems to be aware of it too, because he tenses seconds after her. Then he releases her and steps clear out of Maka’s personal bubble. She feels much calmer, and a little surprised at his embarrassed reaction. “Sorry.” His voice is not so confident anymore, but he’s looking her in the eyes. “But, um, yeah. I feel much better.” He regards her with a reserved look. “What about you?”

She opens her mouth, prepared to spout out her misery. But she doesn’t feel all that sad anymore. The adrenaline rush has her feeling bright-eyed and alert. Much more aware of how stupid she was just being, of how stupid it is to try and kill herself over her father. The shock of everything that had just happened has hit her like a ton of bricks, but one glance back at him and everything is fine. “I… I feel better too.”

He grins those sharp teeth at her, the news appearing to please him way more than she thought possible for a stranger.

“Want to get some breakfast?”

There is a pause. He looks just as shocked as she feels about his question.

She blinks, finally realizing how weird the situation is. She had just about killed herself, only to change her mind. Then she slipped, only to be saved by a stranger—who is male. There are many reasons for why she should not follow Soul to get breakfast. Many logical reasons. Many logical, important reasons. But she is already moving towards a stranded car down the road that is not hers. Maka isn’t even shocked by it. Her brain cannot seem to think of even one, single, logical, important reason. It seems she really isn’t in her right of mind, but somehow that’s okay with her. She just wants to get away from this bridge, and Soul doesn’t hesitate to help her into the car when she motions to get in.

“Yeah, okay.”

It seems her body’s vote is unanimous.


	2. Him: 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Him: 1**  

He is feeling a lot more off than usual for a late Tuesday shift.  While driving back from working the night shift, he had a sudden desire to take the old route, which isn’t that much longer than the usual, but it did take him by Death City Bridge.  Why the need for a change in scenery, he would never know. 

What he does know is that he saw a woman standing on the other side of the railing while driving by.  Like an idiot, his brain told him to hit the brakes.  His body, being the lackey of said idiot, did.  This caused the car to do some interesting skidding before finally stopping a little farther down the bridge.  He’s forced to jog back. 

He then spent the next twenty minutes trying to talk this young lady out of jumping off the bridge.  It was terrifying, because he didn’t know how to help a stranger who’s given up on herself. Heaven knows he is the least qualified to do it.  He is no life coach, but considering she laughed at least once during his attempted rambles, he thinks he did a pretty good job.   

Excluding the part where she crossed her arms in a pout and nearly fell overboard.   

But he caught her, so she’s safe now, maybe even a little chipper if that soft smile is anything to go by.  He wants to pat himself on the back for being capable of saving another’s life like a badass, but he can’t because he’s driving her to the local diner for a super early breakfast.  He didn’t think she would take him up on the offer, but the craziness of the last thirty minutes seems to have bonded them together much faster than any normal life event ever could.  He can’t say he isn’t glad about that. 

“Soul?” Her voice is soft, and he thinks that it’s more adorable when combined with that innocent gleam in her big green eyes.  She looks young, what with the low pigtails and rather curve-less body, but his mind tells him she’s much closer to his age than he is being led to believe.  She’s a spit-fire too; he knows it’s true due to the sassy attitude she had after he saved her.  It amazes him how her eyes can be so deep even while she scowls at him. He reminds himself that, as a cool guy, he shouldn’t get attached to someone so capable of looking like both a kitten and a hellcat.  She’ll tear him a new one while he’s still caught up in that sweet smile and soulful eyes. 

He risks a quick glance at her, humming as he tries to remember the route back to his favorite all-night diner. 

“What…” She pauses, and he worries that she’s doubting her choice in coming with him. He worries she will ask why he bothered to save her.  He doesn’t have a solid answer for that one.  “What kind of job do you do until four in the morning?” 

“A shitty one,” is his automatic reply, and he hears her reaction as a soft laugh.  He grins, adding a second tally to the mental score board.  Making her laugh makes him feel even cooler than usual.  Not that he thought that could ever be possible.  “Actually, I work security at a company building.” 

“Oh.”  She trails off, but he can practically feel the additional questions radiating off her. He can see her out of the corner of his eye, twitching her lips like she is eager to ask more. 

Is it weird that he thinks her restraint is cute? 

“Yeah, I do a lot of part time jobs,” he elaborates, and her curiosity feeds off his explanation.  It’s a surprising motivator, and he thinks that she must be a crazy good listener or something to make him want to chat. He’s not a chatty guy.  “I’m currently a freshman in college.  A poor freshman.”  He emphasizes it in hopes of earning another laugh, but she remains quiet.  Minus a cool point. “Anyway, I do a couple different part time jobs to pay for living.” 

“Sounds exhausting.”  She sounds much more sincere than he thought he could deserve, which makes him grin like a mad man.  He has no idea why.   

“Nah, I have it all planned out. Like, tonight.”  He pauses, having no choice but to concentrate on parking just right in front of the diner.  It’s not his car and he refuses to treat it any worse tonight.  They both get out and head for the door before he continues, “I don’t have classes until the afternoon, so I can sleep until lunch. Sometimes, I just sleep all day though.”  He grins wide at her as they walk in; it’s something that has become known as his signature look thanks to his sharp teeth. 

She grins back at him without hesitation, her eyes sparkling just a bit in the new lighting.  He’s amazed at their intensity, like an emeralds in a jewel showcase.  “You sound awfully lazy, Soul.” 

He scoffs at her teasing as they both take a seat in the booth.  The place is quiet as a mouse, which he gets because it’s not even five yet. She picks up the waiting menu, flipping through it.  He doesn’t, knowing just what he likes.  So, instead, he observes the area.  However, the place is still empty, which leads his eyes to his only companion. 

Soul tells himself that, because she was suicidal up until about a half hour ago, he should really be keeping an eye on her as the cool guy who saved her life.  She could revert and grab a nearby straw in an attempt to finish the deed by shoving it into her throat.  Or maybe she’ll smash the ketchup bottle and start stabbing her gut.  She may even attempt to drown in hot sauce.  They’re all gruesome thoughts that don’t even come close to matching the image of the girl sitting in front of him, but apparently anything can happen before 5 am on a Tuesday. 

Whatever method she uses, he should definitely watch her.  Just in case he needs to reactivate those life-saving skills he just recently acquired. Most definitely. 

He must be too obvious while looking because her green eyes glance up over the menu.  They share a moment of just looking at each other. Then her eyes squint, and he hears her call him an idiot.  He suddenly wonders if those big, green eyes give her mind-reading abilities.   

She sets the menu down as the waitress joins them.  Maka orders a platter of flapjacks with a glass of milk.  His brain tells him that the choice is nothing short of adorable.  She looks at him not even a moment after he thinks it, squints those eyes one more time, and tells him to shut up. 

She really can read minds. 

What’s more surprising to him though, is that it is not a turn off. 

Soul orders some sausage and eggs, with extra hash browns.  He also gets a cup of black coffee.  Maka perks at this.  “Is the coffee good?” 

“Yeah, it does the job.” 

The waitress smiles tiredly at Maka, having been in the business too long. “Two coffees then?” 

Maka agrees with the new order, but insists on the milk as well.  The waitress leaves them just before Soul can make an ass of himself about it.  There is a long silence between them.  He wonders if he should ask about her, but he doesn’t know what is safe territory.  A part of him wants to know what could have made her so depressed she would end up on that bridge.  It’s a small part though, because he’s a cool guy and cool guys don’t pry into other people’s problems. Instead he chooses something much more neutral. 

“You don’t strike me as a coffee girl.” 

She looks up from pretending to be interested in the tripod display on their table, eyes wide for a moment before replying. “I don’t drink it black; I like a lot of cream, but if I don’t have a cup before classes I’ll probably pass out before the day ends.” 

He snickers. “Yeah, kindergarten can be rough without enough naps.”  He knows he’s asking for it, but he doesn’t know why he wants it. 

She huffs at him, eyes blazing.  “What does that even mean?” 

He reaches out, not even thinking about it, and pulls on the pigtail to his right.  “You look like you’re five, Pigtails.”  Only after the chuckle of such a clever nickname does he realize how tense she is.  Her eyes are even bigger than before.  She looks beyond uncomfortable with him touching her, and he thinks he overstepped her boundaries here.  His hand lets go and retreats before he can even think to try to apologize. 

She recovers fast though, which he isn’t expecting, and growls at him just a bit. “I’m eighteen.” Her eyes are at a slight downcast though. 

He rolls with it.  Like a cool guy would. 

Soul smirks, “Right.”  And although he decides to tease her about it, a tiny voice inside his head whispers that she’s just a year younger than him.  “An eighteen year old in pigtails ordering pancakes and milk.”  He neglects to add that it’s cute, which in reality, would not have saved him from any of the following grief. 

The next few seconds are a blur of movement on her side.  He doesn’t understand how she did it, but he does know that she packs a lot of power in her petite frame.  His skull hurts like hell. “What the fuck, Maka?” He can feel the cool points slipping away as he realizes how high his voice had been when he yelped. 

She’s smirking. “It’s my signature Maka Chop.  Consider yourself lucky, I usually carry a book with me and use that.” 

He can’t even imagine what a book lodged into his skull would do to him.  He wonders if he’d end up losing all of his brain cells while hanging out with this girl.  “What did I do?”  His voice is not whining. 

“You’re being an idiot.” 

“I don’t know if I can help that, Maka.” 

She’s grinning and he wonders if he should feel proud or terrified that she’s practically a different girl from the one on that bridge.  But as the food arrives, and as he watches her add butter and syrup all over her plate, he finds a real smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  A small one though, because cool guys don’t do mushy. 

“You sure you’re eighteen, Pigtails?” 

Her nose scrunches but she doesn’t comment with food in her mouth, and he knows what her reply is without her saying anything. 

_Idiot._  

Maybe mind-reading is contagious. 


	3. Her: 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Her: 2**  

They finish the food by the time most people would start.  The diner is starting to fill with early morning patrons who want a meal before heading to their jobs. It’s still quiet though, and she enjoys the feeling of her last sip of coffee while the sun peeks just over the horizon. 

   
Soul pays when they finally decide to leave.  She isn’t at all happy about this, but no argument she makes is enough to stop him from pulling out his wallet.  She doesn’t like the idea of him paying for their meal, mainly because they just met and it was through her stupid suicide attempt.  He seems to realize this is her key deterring factor, and counters with, “What, you brought your purse with you to jump?” 

He said it to be teasing, and she knows that, but it’s a blow to her pride because she knows that suicide is no way to solve her problem.  She doesn’t want to admit she was ever stupid enough to attempt it, and the comment only reminds her of her own insecurities winning out against her brain. 

She lets him pay, only after claiming that she will pay him back as soon as she has money on her. 

He gives her a crazed look. “You do not need to pay me back.  It’s like, six bucks.” 

Maka raises an eyebrow in return.  “I thought you were a poor freshman.” 

He blinks, and his red eyes seem to get warmer as a grin stretches across his face. “I’m not too poor to take a girl out to eat.”  His eyebrows wiggle just a bit. “Give me some credit here, Maka; I’m a cool guy.” 

She isn’t sure how to react.  It was as if he had just implied they were on a date, which makes no sense for several reasons.  Most of them revolve on how he thinks she’s a mentally-unstable toddler.  There’s also the problem of her being a man-hater, which is not as big a factor as she would have liked.  In fact, it seems like it isn’t even coming into play here, for reasons she doesn’t quite understand. 

They leave with her finally retorting that she isn’t the kind of girl to owe a debt to anyone.  

“I don’t know Maka; as the guy who just saved your life, that seems like an awfully huge debt to repay.”  He grins at her as they both climb into his car.  “Are you sure you want to play this game?” 

Seriously, what’s with this guy?  How does he have a retort for everything?  It’s both fascinating and frustrating, she can’t tell if she likes it. 

“Shut up Soul; I refuse to owe you for anything.” 

The comment came out a little rougher than she intended.  The car is quiet as her statement seems to slice through the once cheery atmosphere. Maka wonders if she just said something terrible.  She hesitates a glance at him, but finds his face hidden by both bangs and the shadow of a rising sun. 

“Alright then,” He concludes, a small grin on his lips. “I’ll think about how you can pay me back.”  His eyes are soft, and somehow she knows he’s not upset with her. 

The car pulls out of the lot, and both fall into silence again.  It’s much more comfortable this time, compared to the ones before in the restaurant and drive over.  Maka relaxes into the seat, eyes drifting out the window.  She feels contempt for once in a long while, and her eyes drift closed without her noticing. 

She’s jostled back to reality when Soul asks her where she lives.  The question scares her, not because some stranger will be at her house, but because her farther will be there. 

“Listen,” Soul explains, seeming to misunderstand her sudden clamp-up.  “I really need to get some sleep before I head to classes this afternoon.  And I’m not going to let you walk home alone, for several reasons.” 

“If you are implying that I would be mugged, you should know I don’t have my bag on me.  Plus, I know judo.” 

He risks a skeptical glance at her as he drives, but before she can argue her case he nods his head once.  “You know what, I totally believe that.” 

She wants to think he’s teasing her again, but the way he stares with intensity out the windshield assures her he does indeed believe the claim.  Maybe he’s remembering a certain moment at the diner, where his head met her fist.  She can’t help but grin at the thought. 

“Maka, let me take you home.” 

She sighs, her face falling into a small frown. “I don’t want to go home.” 

He doesn’t pry why, but he does insist she goes.  Maka doesn’t know what to think, because she should be upset that he would make her go someplace she doesn’t want to return to.  However, he’s not being forceful; instead it’s coming off as something akin to concern or worry.  She settles on feeling reluctant in return. 

Maka reveals to him her address after one more round of hesitation.  It turns out he cannot find the place on his own, and the attempt ends with her yelling out directions as he refuses to admit to being lost.  It’s in the more suburbanized section of town, which Soul claims to have no previous encounters with.  She supposes she’ll let the haphazard excuse slide, seeing as his ego was pretty deflated by the end of their adventure.   

Soul pulls up to the house, but not into the driveway.  She figures it’s for a quick getaway, which she wants to mirror.  Nevertheless, she knows she can’t run away from her only home, even if it is a crummy one. 

A couple more minutes of staring, one large sigh of defeat, and she finally gets up the nerve to open the passenger side door.  There’s a ripping noise behind her though, which distracts Maka away just in time to see Soul writing out something on a sheet of notebook paper.  He finishes his chosen anecdote, then hands the folded sheet to her. 

She dares a glance at his face, and finds that it’s just as warm and supportive as it was on the bridge.  His eyes offer her confidence and encouragement, wrapped in a warm red bundle of flames.  His features are softer, the smirk gone and replaced with a small smile.  It’s so foreign, but she welcomes his comfort all over again without any hesitation. 

“It’ll be okay,” and that’s all he says.  It was all he needed to say to her.  She feels like crying all over again, but manages to hold it in with a small hiccup.  Her head bobs once and he ruffles her hair despite the resistance in her pigtails. 

She gets out the car, not looking back because she knows her courage will crumble every second she spends hesitating.  She knows Soul will understand this.  She walks up to the front door, cutting through the grass because she just doesn’t care.   

No distractions, she can do this. 

The door is a lot more intimidating than she could ever remember. She stares at it for a minute longer than necessary before reaching into her inner coat pocket.  There, she manages to pull out the key and get it into the lock. Everything clicks into place as she sneaks inside the door. One final glance back and she sees Soul pull the car away. 

He was waiting the whole time for her to get inside? She giggles, feeling the weight inside her dissipate at this realization.  What a dork. 

Maka wonders inside the house, slipping her combat boots off her feet to help minimize noise level.  There is a good chance her father is up considering the time, but she knows he’s on a tight morning schedule before driving to the corporate building.  Plus, she doesn’t know if she can stand to see him, since he’s nearly 90% of the reason she tried to kill herself about two hours ago.   

Well, maybe more like 70%, to be fair.  But she doesn’t see the need to admit that to anyone else. 

In any case, Maka finds she just wants to go to bed.  Technically, it’s a school day, but she thinks she might have to call in sick.  Mental illnesses were just as bad as any physical ailment, and she needs to lay down and let her brain catch up with the night.  Her bed beckons her, and Maka does little to resist.  She passes the kitchen where she sees her father’s familiar red hair. He notices her, notices she’s not in her pajamas, notices she’s coming from the front and not her room, and the toast he had been buttering drops.  She stays long enough to check: butter side down.  She bails quick enough to miss his useless rambling about being out on a school night. 

She’s a little bitter though, because everything he’s preaching against he’s already committed a thousand times over.  She doesn’t want to hear such nonsense from a man like him.  She debates turning around and screaming over his clatter.  Maka makes it to her room though, closing the door and locking it.  Her father isn’t the type to invade her space, but she feels like the lock is one of the few barriers she has against the world.  Maka collapses on her bed, dropping the boots on her plush carpet.  She’s already half dead, ready to sleep.  That’s when her father’s haphazard knock so rudely intrudes.  The thought of screaming passes by her again. 

“Maka? Angel?” 

She doesn’t want to answer, she’s too tired to hate him right now.  However, he’s never been a man who could take a hint.  “Yes Papa?” 

“Are you… Is everything okay?”  He sounds unsure, which isn’t new since he never seemed to know how to treat her.  She won’t lie that her temper always flares the most around this man.  She had no patience for such a two-faced creature. 

“I’m fine, Papa.”  Her voice does little to hide her annoyance.  She doesn’t know how to explain herself, nor does she really want to.  “Something happened with a friend. Got help.”  And it’s not a total lie, because surely Soul is a friend at this point.  Or did he expect her to call him her hero? She rolls her eyes at the smirk he would surely have for such an idea. 

“Papa’s proud that you could help a friend, but please don’t go out late at night.  You’re my little angel, I want you to be safe. Please don’t make Papa worry.”  His whine is unbecoming for his age, and she can tell he’s leaning heavy against her door. 

Maka rolls her eyes; what’s with males thinking she is a delicate flower?  Although, it’s not like Soul would know her background in martial arts and gymnastics.  The thought of her car ride with Soul reminds her that she still had that paper stuffed in a pocket somewhere. She finds the letter, unfolds it, and chooses to focus on its contents over the sound of her father’s calls of love and forgiveness. 

The handwriting is sloppy, and somehow he’s slanted it despite having lined paper to guide his work.  The message though, is enough for her to forgive his disorder. 

She believes him still, and the evidence is the soft smile stretching across her lips.  

“I will be okay.”


	4. Him: 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Him: 2**  

Soul is starting to think that he overstepped her boundaries, again.  Which, is crazy because he’s not the kind of guy to care about another person or bother about their problems.  It’s not cool to snoop into other’s personal business.  Yet, he finds that Maka is different, and that doesn’t bother him as much as it should.  He has no explanation for why he cares about a girl he just met in the last 4 hours.  That doesn’t seem like a problem to him either.  The problem isn’t so much that he met the girl by chance one night. Nor is it the fact that this chance encounter involved him pulling her over the ledge of a bridge she had slipped over.  The problem is that she’s complicated in a way he doesn’t even understand, but he wants to understand. 

He knows something’s wrong.  She didn’t like him being too close to her, she didn’t want him to touch her unexpectedly, and she was suspicious of him half the night.  He gets they were practically strangers, and that as a stranger he had insisted on taking her for a drive, but somehow it still feels like he is missing something.  She’s a lot more reserved than any other girl, for a reason he doesn’t know, and the more Soul thinks about it the more he wants to know.  He wants to know more about Maka. 

Specifically, right now, he wants to know why she was so scared of going home. 

He had felt bad about it the moment he realized she didn’t want to go back to her house.  Only an idiot wouldn’t notice that every problem she has is centered around the one place she should feel the safest.  However, he really was exhausted and needed to sleep before class.  If it wasn’t for the stupid project he has due today he would have gladly ditched and stuck around Maka.   

The truth of that statement almost has him worried, but Soul shrugs it off because he never was the studious type anyway.  He ditched all the time in high school, and in college they were so much more lenient about attendance he almost never went. 

Might as well spend that time trying to help a girl who can’t seem to help herself. 

But she’s really too cute and is a complete nerd and he can’t help but think that pushing her buttons is the best way to spend his time.  Yet, even if he thinks so, it may have been way too forward to suddenly thrust his number on her while she’s busy having a psychological crisis.  He didn’t mean it in a brash way, but with her it’s hard to say how Maka will respond to any attempts he makes at befriending her. 

Soul worries the whole way back to his apartment. After returning his neighbors car, he wanders up to his room, then bed.  Sleep is a struggle because all he can see is big, green eyes with dirty blond hair disappearing into a void that he can’t pull them back from.  He ends up waking an hour earlier than he needs to, and it shows all over his face.  He showers, then makes lunch. A sandwich. 

She still hasn’t texted him yet, and he’s worried because she might never try to contact him again.  She may think he’s some sort of creep trying to take advantage of her while she’s frazzled and scared.  There is a chance Maka might not believe in him or his letter at all, even though he means ever word in every sentence.  He wants her to have confidence in herself, he wants her to talk to people instead of just trying to solve it all on her own—God knows where that got her. 

More specifically, though, he wants her to text him whenever she feels alone, because he’s here for her.  Even if he isn’t the most functional person himself.  He thinks that he could be though, if Maka wanted it.  Is that weird?  Soul isn’t sure. 

He finishes lunch with these thoughts clouding his mind.  Soul spends the next odd number of minutes staring out into the void of his apartment, wondering what the hell was wrong with him.  One depressed girl at four in the morning has him a complete mess and he isn’t even upset with her for doing it. 

Then his phone goes off.  Soul leaps out of his chair and scrambles for the kitchen counter, where his phone charges next to his wallet.  His heart is thudding for several reasons—none of which he is proud of—but it halts when it’s just his usual alarm, telling him to wake up.  The realization hurts way more than it should, and that’s probably what has him the most upset at this point. 

Soul wonders over to his couch, only to collapse upon it from disappointment.  He’s gone over the situation a million times in his head; there is no reason for her to text him, to trust him.  In reality, despite saving her from that fall, he is still a stranger to her.  He wonders if it would have helped if he at least looked normal, with brown hair and eyes.  She may have smiled with him more, if not for his shark teeth.  It’s a wonder she didn’t accuse him for being a demon from hell, sent to mock her struggles.  The thought makes him snicker, because he knows that she would have probably turned around and kicked his ass instead of jumping, if that were the case.  She seemed like the type to stick her ground and fight, rather than run away. 

Which, when he considers it longer, makes her suicide attempt seem very out of character.  That thought makes him worry more.   

“Damn it.” He wants to go back to her house and growl his annoyance at her in person.  But he can’t, for many, many reasons. Why won’t she just text him?  It’s not for her sake anymore.  He needs the confirmation that she’s okay. 

It’s so uncool.  He blames Maka. 

Soul decides he’s had enough of this, so he does something he never once tried before in his education career.  He’s going to school. _Early_.  Almost a whole thirty minutes after the ride on his bike. Following getting his backpack together, Soul left his apartment feeling less dejected about the situation and more angry.  He’s being so uncool right now.  Even if he looks badass in his leather jacket while riding his Harley, on the inside he feels like he’s lost so many cool points.  He’s never been so low before. 

This is also Maka’s fault. 

He spends the whole day at classes trying his best to be distracted; he pretends even harder to pay attention in class. The report that took him away from Maka is shitty, partly because he’s still a little pissed, but mostly because he threw the thing together Sunday night when he happened to remember it was due. 

This is probably not Maka’s fault. 

He’s about to leave campus for home when he spots his best friend.  It’s not hard to do, considering he’s loud, full of himself, and has spikey blue hair.  Oh, and is running towards Soul like a maniac who just escaped the ward.  Soul braces himself for the inevitable, expecting whatever to happen next to involve some sort of violent contact. 

He is not disappointed, as his friend nearly tackles him to the ground.  “Soul!” 

“Yeah, Black*Star,” Soul replies. “What is it now?” 

“I’ve met someone.”  His friend is grinning like mad. “She’s gorgeous, man.  A goddess; perfect for a god like me.” 

“How long?”  Though he isn’t really interested, Soul knows he has to at least let the guy get it out of his system. 

“Almost a month.”  Black*Star grins as a surprised look flashes across his friend’s face.  “Try not to be too jealous, Soul.  It’s no good if my followers feel envy for their god.  You should just admire me for being the great god that I am.  Who knows, maybe I can find you a fine lady too, as a gift for being such a loyal lackey.” 

Soul rolls his eyes. “Shut it, Black*Star. I do not need your help finding a girlfriend.” 

His best friend looks unconvinced. “Oh please Soul, you may look cool on the outside, but the real you is—” 

Soul’s phone goes off.  Its two simple dings, plus the soft noise of his phone vibrating inside his pocket.  The reaction is Soul throwing his bag off in one violent motion, his hands going for his jean pockets.  The phone is not there.  Then he remembers he stuffed it in his jacket so he could hear it if the thing went off.   Soul finds his phone, and can feel Black*Star staring at him as he unlocks the device.  The number is unknown, but they write in complete sentences, with punctuation. 

 _Hi Soul, it’s Maka! Thank you again for earlier._  

She’s such a nerd. 

Soul can’t tell if he should laugh or cry, but the happiness he feels makes him grin wide and hard.  He can feel Black*Star growing antsy beside him, but Soul doesn’t have time to explain himself.  He adds Maka to his contact list before trying to think of how to reply.  He knows what he wants to say: something akin to “Finally!” or “Why did you take so long?” but he’s worried that she’ll figure him out.  Everything he wants to say it just too obvious. 

Soul settles for something very casual: **_Hey pigtails_** ** _whats_** ** _up_**  

Soul doesn’t bother to put his phone away, choosing to stare at the screen until she replies.  He doesn’t wait long.  She’s so punctual. It suits her.  Her reply is resentful at his nickname for her, but she admits she just wanted to test the number.  The whole thing is so Maka, Soul worries that his face might split in two.  It’s amazing how much better he feels from just two little messages. 

He wonders if she can read his mind no matter where she is, because she sends a third text before he can even reply.  It explains that she’s been sleeping all day, and she feels lazy because of it.  It’s a crack from earlier, something parallel to their pre-breakfast conversation, and Soul is beyond pleased because that means she’s still in good spirits.  Her ability to read him is turning out to be pretty convenient, and is saving him the embarrassment of asking any worrisome questions.  Some cool points may be salvaged yet.  

He decides to reply with his own quip: **_Xtremely_** ** _lazy_**. 

 _Shut up, Soul._  

He wants to laugh because he can hear her saying it, down to the little whine she puts onto the vowels of his name.  It’s so cute he might just let out a real smile.  This whole thing is just ridiculous.  He’s acting so very uncool right now, and he doesn’t even care. 

Is that Maka’s fault or his?  Soul isn’t sure. 

He’s about to text her back when there is a grunt near him.  Soul looks up to see that his best friend is still there, and strangely quiet.  That is not a good sign. 

Soul prepares to wave the last five minutes off; he prepares to salvage his cool card before the other male can shred it to pieces.  But, Black*Star just grins wider and wider the more Soul tries to explain that he was waiting for a text from someone about an assignment.  That’s all.  It’s no big deal.  Totally doesn’t matter to him either. 

Black*Star is cackling like a psycho by the time he gives up his integrity, leaving Soul to wonder how he can blame Maka for everything that has gone wrong today. 

“Looks like you don’t need my godly help after all, Soul.”


	5. Her: 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Her: 3**  

Maka wakes up about five hours after the initial trek to her room. She feels dirty, since she had yet to change out of her jeans and t-shirt when she passed out. Somehow, her jacket had fallen off her at some point in her sleep and onto the floor. The rest of her clothes join it as she decides to take a quick shower. After which, she realizes that the note Soul wrote has disappeared in her bed somewhere. 

She searches for it without reason, tossing pillows and blankets in a mad frenzy until she finds the note wedge in the crack between her bed and nightstand.  She spends the next minutes contemplating what to do next, because there are a lot of things wrong with this scenario. What if the number is fake?  But that is too unlikely, so she dismisses it.  What if Soul is just some crazy psycho who lures girls in with fake compassion?  The logic seems off, but Maka clings to the fact that males are horny and untrustworthy creatures. They only want one thing from women, and they don’t care about the aftereffects or consequences. She knows that this must be true.  It’s the only thing she has ever known to be true about the male species. 

Except, Soul doesn’t seem to match up with those facts.  Soul had saved her life.  Soul took her to breakfast to make sure she was okay.  Soul acted like a complete dork just to make her laugh.  Soul drove her home.  Soul told her to have courage.  Soul wrote to her and was offering support.  Soul didn’t ask for anything in return.

Soul isn’t matching her stereotype at all.  Maybe, Soul is just a nice guy.   

She’s a little terrified, but not for the reasons she wants to think.  She’s scared not because Soul is showing to be different, but because of the little bit of hope she feels from that thought.  She isn’t sure if it’s okay to suddenly accept and chance that one male would be different from all other men in her life, but a small part of her clings to the feelings welling in her chest.  There is a fluttering in her stomach, but Maka is immediate in ignoring the rest of her mind and interprets everything as just being hungry.  She makes a late lunch.  It consists of leftover pasta salad, as well as a nice red apple and peanut butter.  At any other time, she would have thought the combination weird. 

Maka returns to her room after cleaning up in the kitchen, only to remember that her room was destroyed by previous antics.  She cleans it up too, straightening sheets and fluffing pillows.  Only once her favorite book is back on the nightstand does she dare to think about Soul’s letter again.   

She decides to text him.  Just a short little message. But she's not sure what to say. There is no easy way to start a conversation with someone you just met. Maka wonders if this is what it's like to exchange numbers with someone at a bar or party; to get a number from someone who you met by chance and then have to face the phone wondering what you could possibly have been thinking. Not that she would be able to accurately predict that feeling. She had yet to go to a high school party in her four years, and her father has proven that drinking never ends well.  Add her hatred of the general male population to the mix and it would be safe to say Maka never had a man give her his number. In fact, she had never gone out to eat with a man, laughed and joked with a man, been supported by a man.  She had never been with a man who expected nothing in return for his attention. 

Maybe she should start with a “Thank You.” That seems very appropriate. She is a little unnerved still, but it's better than just an awkward “hey” or reliving the whole morning all over again. If it is Soul, he should understand with just that, right? Maybe she should she should put her name in too. It's not like he knows her cell number, so sending an anonymous “Thanks” could lead him to ignore her. But, what if it wasn't Soul and just some random person because he really was pulling a fast one and wanted to comp— 

Maka spends the next near hour staring at her phone, trying to decide why a leap of faith was proving so hard.  Why couldn’t she just trust that Soul would be honest with her when he said he cared?  Why is sending a text proving to be just as hard as trying to jump off a bridge? 

In the end, she does text him.   It’s short and simple.  She even double-checks her spelling.  Soul responds within the minute.  The text is very familiar, and the worries she had melt away as they continue their banter from that morning but in the form of digital messaging.  He’s being a bit of smart-ass, but Maka can’t find it in herself to care.  Her smile is almost subconscious. She is curled up on her bed in just her pajamas, letting Soul try to outwit her, and Maka feels a sense of peace fall onto her.  

There is a long pause in their conversation at one point, followed by a quick message from Soul, stating he’s “got to do something”.  Maka feels mild disappointment at this, but replies that she’ll talk to him later. 

He does not respond.  This bothers Maka much more than she wants to admit. 

She decides to distract herself with homework.  Although, this is short lived when she remembers that she had already done everything the day before.  It seems even suicide can’t stop her perfectionism.  She studies a bit, working over facts for a history test that is Friday.  It is slow going.  She can’t get into her work like usual. 

In the end, she decides to just read. Well, re-read her favorite series of books. There are twelve of them, plus three spin-offs that are not so bad as far as sequels go.  She wastes a few more hours just doing that.  By the time she’s on the fourth book, it’s nearly eight in the evening.  She’s not terribly hungry, but now is as good a stopping point as any.  

She’s in the kitchen when her father stumbles through the front door.  He’s not near as drunk as usual, but he is a slobbering mess nonetheless.  She scowls at him as he glances her way, because she knows just what will happen next. 

“Maka!” He cries it out like he hasn’t seen her in years.  If only such an idea were true.  “Maka-Angel.” He hiccups a bit before crawling his way over to her. 

She doesn’t like the nickname, mostly because she knows it’s his attempt to show love and familiarity with her. It feels fake, and Maka can’t help but compare it to Soul’s nickname for her.  Although a little degrading, “Pigtails” seems so much friendlier and more personal than “Angel.” Which makes no sense in many ways.   

Maka chooses to ignore the man who is supposed to be her father and keeps cooking.  He’s not happy with this choice though, and weeps at her feet. 

“Angel.” His voice is too loud. It’s too whiny. Is he really an adult?  “Papa loves you; you know that, right?”  She doesn’t respond, because she doesn’t ever believe such claims, though he’s surely said it a million times.  The man nods his head, agreeing with himself. “Maka’s so smart, such a clever girl; Papa’s so proud to have her.  Papa loves you so much, Angel.”  He rambles phrases like this for a few unneeded minutes. 

Maka moves to take the frying pan off the heat, a motion that takes her away from the man blubbering on the tile floor.  Said man, in a fit of drunk depression, grabs her ankle, begging her not to leave.  The action is unexpected, and Maka is shocked enough to drop the pan. It just misses hitting her, the contents clattering onto the floor. She hears a gasp, though she isn’t sure who made the noise. 

Silence fills the air for a moment.  If feels like minutes pass, but the reality is mere seconds.  Her father is on his feet, seemingly less drunk and more fatherly as he asks if she is alright.  He looks worried, and maybe even serious.  He flutters around her, touching hands and arms and, just as he reaches for her face, Maka snaps.   

She takes a solid step back: not a retreat but a warning, as her eyes flash. “Stop it. That is enough, Papa.”  Her voice is like ice, and she glares at him with every ounce of energy she can muster.  She doesn’t think it’s much, considering the day she’s had, but his reaction to her says otherwise.  He cowers, face falling into a sullen heap of rejection. She feels no pity, no regret.  “Just get some water, take an aspirin, and go to bed, before you cause any more trouble.” 

He hesitates, mouth opening to only blubber out more nonsensical words.  He looks lost, maybe even broken, but Maka chooses not to dwell on it.  He eventually follows her command and leaves the kitchen. He pauses at the entryway, brooding in a last ditch attempt for attention. Maka ignores it. Blatantly. 

She stays standing the same spot for a while after her father has left.  She stares at nothing in particular.  The anger is fizzling out, but unease and exhaustion take it’s place.  She sighs, shoulders falling but not really relaxing. 

Maka cleans up the mess. The grease has cooled enough not to burn her through the rag, but the pan is still hot.  She puts it in the sink and wonders absently why she puts up with anything anymore.  She’s just so tired of it. 

A flash of messy white hair, burgundy eyes, and sharp teeth enter her mind. The image, though in its obscurity should be disturbing, is quite comforting.  She imagines those eyes—nearly red in the light—glowing with comfort and that stupid grin offering more support than she thought any smile could.  She feels her body relax, and Maka gives another small smile without much thought. 

She wants to believe in Soul. She wants to trust that he will be there for her, even though he’s practically a stranger and male to boot.  But he’s the only person in her life who’s offered to help, even if it’s nothing more than lending an ear.  She wants to take him up on that offer though.  She wants to tell him everything she was too scared to say before.  She wants to call him right now and tell him why she wanted to jump. Why she’s freaking out. Why she doesn’t know what to. 

Because, maybe, Soul will. 

Maka makes it back to her room, locks the door, and crawls into bed.  It’s then she realizes how late it is.  She doesn’t know his exact schedule, but Maka remembers him mentioning that he works the night-shift at a company. He also has many other odd jobs.  This means he probably isn’t available to talk, and Maka resigns herself to just stare at his contact information on her phone. 

She tilts the device, letting the bright glow of its screen burn into her eyes for a while.  She thinks about nothing in particular.  Not her father, not her life, not even Soul.  She just feels the soft sheets on her skin, the smooth metal of her phone, and the way the light digs into her retinas. 

She can sense sleep pulling her away from the real world and into a dream reality.  She sighs, which turns into a yawn halfway through, and decides that she’s done for today.  Tomorrow will be another chance to start over. 

Maka shifts to put her phone on the charger, but hesitates in setting it on her bedside table.  Before she realizes it, she’s texting Soul one last message, despite knowing that he is most likely too busy to see it tonight. 

 _Goodnight Soul._  

She curls up snug into her bed, building a fort of blankets and pillows that will act as her guardians for the night.  Maka’s out in minutes, and dreams of nothing at all. 


	6. Him: 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Him: 3**  

It’s been a long day for Soul by the time he is preparing for work that Tuesday night. He trudges down to the parking garage, prepared to take his neighbor’s car again, but discovers the guy has taken it out— probably for a date. This angers Soul way more than he has any right to be.  He likes taking the car to his security job because the parking behind the building is too crappy for his Harley.  The place is a dump, and not well maintained. No way was he putting his baby there if he could help it.  Things had always worked for borrowing the car, due to his neighbor being a chill guy and Soul offering to pay gas every now and again.   

The only thing that salvages his evening is a text from Maka, wishing him a good night.  It is short and simple, but makes him forget all about how his bike is wedged in a crappy space surrounded by rats and trash.  Well, at least for a little while. 

Wednesday, which is a day filled with classes and an evening of serving up nasty frozen patties, is turning out to be equally terrible.  Maka has texted him only twice today, and they were hardly more than polite replies of “Not now Soul, I’m in class” and “I’m sorry, I’m busy.”  He supposes it is good she replies at all, because it means she is okay enough to keep in touch with him.  However, the replies are less than satisfactory. Soul is bored out of his mind as he contemplates how much grease is needed to fry himself alive. This has to be his least favorite job ever, and Soul is willing to bet that working in fast food is the worst job in the world. 

It’s Thursday, however, when the panic starts to set in. Again, Maka is only giving him simple, noncommittal responses every time he tries to ask about her. Soul thinks, at first, that it is just because she had classes, being a senior at the local high school. Yet, when he tries again during his shift-break that night, she gives another vague excuse not to text him. One hour after he sent the message. 

She’s avoiding him.  It is the only logical excuse he can think of.  She didn’t actually like him at all and didn’t want to talk to him.  The first day must have been out of pity or thanks for helping her.  He’s an idiot for thinking someone liked him, especially considering how socially inept he is.  He’s never been good at anything. Nothings changed, despite the many years he spent away from it all. How can Soul claim to be better off on his own when he just seems to be stuck in the same place no matter what? He’s still useless.  She wasn’t even looking for a friend, and certainly not in him. He spends the rest of Thursday evening feeling like shit.  Soul’s used to rejection.  He’s used to failure. But somehow, Maka’s treatment is too much. 

So by the time Friday rolls around, Soul feels especially numb.  He wakes up an hour after his alarm, and one glance at the window has him deciding that he will not being going to any class today.  He feels nothing in particular, but at the same time he knew every part of his being is in complete dysfunction.  He isn’t hungry, he isn’t tired; Soul doesn’t want to move one muscle from even within his bed covers. 

It’s close to noontime when his phone gives off two soft vibrations. He looks at it, trying to fake nonchalance while his mind races.  He knows who he wants it to be, and for that reason he knows that it will not be them.  

She doesn’t like him.  She wants nothing to do with him. He’s been rejected. Again. 

He ignores the message.  His phone doesn’t like this, because the vibrations continue.  Then, when it appears that this alone will not stir Soul into action, his phone goes into a continuous stretch. Someone is calling him.  Soul is 99% sure he knows who is demanding his attention.  No point in ignoring them. 

“Black*Star.”  Soul’s voice sounds much rougher than he intended, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of his laziness or his feelings. “What is it?” 

“Soul.” Black*Star’s voice sounds annoyed, but the phone call manages to hide his edge a bit.  “What the hell man? I sent you like, a hundred texts. How dare you try to ignore your god!” 

Soul scratches his hair, annoyance growing within him. He lies. “I didn’t hear it.” 

His best friend makes a grunting noise, but seems to let it go. “Whatever; anyway, you wanna hangout this afternoon? Me and my goddess were going to the complex.” 

“You’re inviting me to be your third wheel?”  Soul doesn’t bother to hide how much he isn’t interested.  Last thing he needs is more proof that he’s socially awkward. 

Black*Star snorts, but with him it always turns into something much louder and more mocking. “No! Bring your lady too.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Soul doesn’t reply, because he’s busy trying to block Maka out of his mind. Again.  

Black*Star seems to notice the pause, which is unusually perceptive. “Listen,” he murmurs through the phone. “I really want you to meet her, okay? And I figured it would be less weird if you brought your girl along too. Less pressure on everybody, and shit.”  Soul barely picks up on the fact that his best friend sounds nervous. 

Soul’s mind is stuck. “She’s not my girl.”  It’s all he can manage to blurt out at this point.  He can’t think about anything but Maka now. He doesn’t know how to handle what thinking about her does to him. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me.” 

“Huh? What did you do?” 

“I don’t… I didn’t think I did anything.” 

“Well, did she say anything to you?” Black*Star sounds as bewildered as Soul feels. 

Soul doesn’t have a good answer for that.  “No,” he admits after a beat. “She’s been blowing me off though.” He bites back a growl, “I can take a hint, Black*Star.” 

His best friend doesn’t reply for a minute. Soul feels sick, but edgy too. He doesn’t know what to do with his toes. He stares at them in the silence, watches how they wiggle without purpose.  Then he hears a huff from Black*Star’s side of the phone. 

“Just call her.” 

Soul sputters, “What? No.” He chokes a cough down. “Hell no, I am not making this worse. She doesn’t want to text me, and calling is just going to make me sound desperate.”  He can’t afford to lose any more cool points. He’ll go negative. 

“You already sound like shit,” his best friend counters. Always the honest one. “You are desperate, Soul. Dude, you’ve known her for what, three days? You’re acting pathetic. It can’t get much worse. Call her. Demand some sort of response. Don’t go pussyfooting around like she’s already dumped you. Your god commands it.” 

“We aren’t dating,” Soul murmurs it under his breath. 

“You sure act like you are. You’re already whipped and everything.” 

This time Soul does growl. “Fuck off, Black*Star.” 

“Call her,” he replies without missing a beat. “Then meet us at four by the fountain.” Soul prepares to argue some more, but Black*Star hangs up on him.   

He makes it sound so easy, like Soul can just call Maka as if she hasn’t been ignoring his existence.  He stares at his phone, then his other empty, clenching hand, then his toes. His toes are no longer wiggling, but curling closed like they are frustrated too. 

There’s no point in trying, Soul reasons. She doesn’t want to talk to him; it’s almost like she’s cut herself out of their equation.  Do they even have an ‘equation’? He could have sworn they were, at the very least, friends.  He did save her life, after all. She was going to jump off the bridge in a fit of depression, if it wasn’t for— 

Shit. 

His eyes widen. “Oh god,” his voice cuts through the silence.  “Shit; my God… That idiot!”  She hasn’t right? Isn’t secluding oneself from the world a sign? He thought she was okay but maybe taking her home somehow just reverted her back? Is she okay? Would if she’s done something to herself? Shit. Why didn’t he think of this sooner? While he was having a stupid pity-party for one, Maka was returning to her old unstable mess.  He’s an ass; the absolute worst.  What is wrong with him? 

Soul dials her number, listens to the phone ring through his ear.  He is deliberate to ignore anything else, only Maka picking up the phone matters at this point.  He begs every deity known to the world that she’s okay.  Even if she just brushes him off more, as long as she answers he won’t dare complain again. 

It rings and he goes to a mechanized voice mail.  Soul hangs up, cusses at his lap, then tries again.  According to the clock, the public schools should be out soon, but he can’t remember when exactly. The phone is still ringing.  

Just when he thinks that a third call may be in order, the call goes through with a click and static pop.  Soul’s breath catches.  Someone has answered. 

“Soul…”  An aggravated voice hisses into his ear.  “Just what do you think you are doing? I’m in class, you jerk! I still have twenty minutes before school gets out. Couldn’t it have waited?”  She sounds pissed, but the tone isn’t too biting. 

Soul sighs, and his whole body collapses with relief. “Sorry, Maka. Sorry. I couldn’t remember when you were done for the day.”  He feels giddy; his heart beats mad. 

“You realize my phone ringed in class, right? I had to lie and say it was an emergency just to get out of there.  You’re lucky I’m an honors student or there would surely be more complications.”  She’s ranting into his ear, but Soul welcomes every word. She sounds well. “Just what do you want Soul? Can’t you call me back later? I need to go.” 

“You’re such a nerd.” He chuckles under his breath, but then his brain processes what she actually said.  “Wait, Maka. I, uh, I wanted to invite you out.”  He realizes how that sounded: very desperate. “T-to hang out, I mean.” Cool save. “I’m meeting up with some friends at four in the complex.”  His voice does sound terrible, all groggy.  God, why is this the one time Black*Star has to be right about something? 

There is no response on her side.  Soul wonders if she stopped listening or hung up already.  He may have pushed her limits again.  If she wasn’t avoiding him before, she’s going to really go all out now. 

“Oh, okay,” is the response she finally gives.  Short and simple.  He doesn’t know what she means, if that is her agreeing to go or just acknowledging his stupidity.  Luckily, her mind reading powers are back in full swing.  “Four at the complex. You mean Death Pain Square, right?  I suppose I could go and, um, hang out. For a while anyway. With you. And, uh, your friends?” 

Soul is ecstatic. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “Four in front of the fountain.” 

“Okay. See you there. Well, um, bye Soul.” And she hangs up.


	7. Her: 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Her: 4**  

Maka isn’t quite sure what she is thinking. It seems that, whenever Soul is involved, her higher functioning brain skills turn off.  Or go on stand-by. Or, or _something_.  She knows that she hasn’t been talking to him much since Tuesday, which is on purpose, sort of.  She just had a lot to do: plans to make and fathers to avoid.  Being student body president sounds impressive, but the work is hard and time consuming. 

Wednesday and Thursday evenings were filled the brim with homework and special paperwork regarding the graduation ceremony in less than a month. Her graduation ceremony. From Death Academy. There is just no time to text Soul, let alone explain that she has so much stuff calling her attention away from him. 

And it’s not like she didn’t feel bad for blowing him off every time either. 

But now, having not had a decent conversation with him in two days, he’s invited her out. On a Friday.  Well, that is, he invited her to hang-out, with him and his friends.  But still on a Friday.  And she had agreed to it.  She had agreed with excitement in her heart.  She is eager to see Soul, to talk more with him, even if it’s with a bunch of his college buddies that she does not know. 

Again, something definitely stops working in her brain whenever Soul is around.  She should really get that checked or something. That’s not normal, right?

Maka is on edge the last twenty minutes of class.  Her teacher plays it off as nerves from the phone call—she had said it was an emergency.  He offers to let her leave class early, but Maka powers through it. She needs this distraction of test tubes and calculations.  If she doesn’t think about chemistry, she’ll think about what’s happening after chemistry. She will think about Soul and how she hasn’t seen him since that return to her home. She will think about how he’s invited her to spend more time with him.  Then she’ll think about how he wants her to meet his friends. Then she’ll remember that they are college friends, and most likely guys. 

And that is something she doesn’t want to think about at all. 

Because, Soul may be a nice guy as far as Maka can tell, but who can say what kind of company he keeps?  Men, in general are perverse and ego statistical; she would rather stay away from as many of them as possible. Sure Soul is obnoxious and cocky, but at least she can read him enough to know he’s honest as well. It’s just too dangerous to meet a bunch of college guys, especially if they are friends with a man she just met not three days ago. Isn’t this too soon? She shouldn’t be agreeing to such outlandish terms.  How many did Soul say there would be?  She can’t do this! 

The only plus is that they are meeting in a public place. As long as Maka stays vigilant, nothing too bad should happen. Right? 

She doesn’t notice when the bell rings. Maka is just too busy _not_ thinking about meeting at the city’s number one shopping complex with Soul and a bunch of college guys.  Instead of dwelling on that, she’s working very hard as her partner cleans the vials.  She’s working very hard as her neighbors pack up around her to go home.  She’s working very hard as her teacher wonders through empty tables and asks her what she is doing.

“Working hard.” 

He nods. “Yes, of course you are Maka.”  He hesitates before moving closer to her. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Maka tears her eyes away from the glass tools to look at her teacher.  “Yes, Mr. Barett, I’m just fine.”  She watches him watch her.  He doesn’t believe a word she’s said. Time to buffer. “I’m just thinking about some things for school.  It’s gotten very busy with graduation coming up.” 

Mr. Barett nods. “Yes, I imagine so.” He sighs, then scratches the back of his head.  His short sleeve falls up with the motion and she can see his line tattoos no longer hidden underneath.  “Just don’t overdo it, okay?  I don’t like the idea of my students stressing over things out of their control.” He gives her a weary smile. “You’ve always been the type to do that.” 

Maka about sputters. He’s right though; she can’t deny that. She cannot help but be the kind of girl to take on the world. “Right. I’m sorry, sir, and thank you.” 

Her teacher chuckles. “Of course; caring for my students is just the kind of man I am.”  He leaves with a hearty goodbye, and Maka smiles back.  She’s packing up when he pops his head back in. “Also, tell Black*Star hello for me next time you see him.  That kid hasn’t stopped by for a while now.” He grumbles out the last bit. 

She frowns, but he doesn’t stick around for questions.  Maka doesn’t know why he asked such a favor of her.  When does she ever see Black*Star? Black*Star’s guardian is Sid Barett, so if anyone would see more of that loud mouth it would be him.  Besides, Maka would never actively seek out that blue-haired idiot. Not even as a favor to one of her favorite teachers.  That boy has been a thorn in her side since they were children.  He’s full of it, and only has one volume setting: Screeching Loud. She tried to avoid him all throughout elementary school, which didn’t really work.   

She’s so busy reliving her childhood annoyances that Maka doesn’t notice how she’s already home.  Maka jumps off her bicycle and returns it to the garage, a little puzzled but not complaining.  It turns out Black*Star is a great distraction from her Soul problems.  Not that she’ll ever admit that to anyone—least of all Black*Star, even under the most sever torture. He’s just too moronic.  His ego needs no help. 

The house is empty, as expected.  Maka goes to her room, removes her backpack, and assesses her homework load for the weekend.  There’s not a lot, and no tests are scheduled for at least two more weeks.  Plus, it is Friday. This means there is no reasonable excuse for not meeting up with Soul.  She doesn’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing. 

Maka wonders over to her closet.  The mirror next to it shows off the plaid skirt and dress shirt her school requires students to wear.  She doesn’t think it would be a good idea to wear her uniform in front of college boys.  She needs to look mature enough that they don’t try to mess with her.  There’s a chance Soul told them she was still in high school, but she doesn’t want them to think they can try anything.  She’s tough and mature for her age.  Time to show both Soul and his friends that.

Of course, thinking it is easier than actually performing the task.

She spends a good twenty minutes trying to pick out something to wear. It’s the longest she’s ever thought about an outfit.  Maka’s never been so picky about her appearance before. She’s a little worried about that.  For multiple reasons.

In the end, Maka becomes too annoyed with both the situation and herself.  She picks jean shorts and a light orange top.  A red camisole underneath for extra protection. Maka puts her favorite combat boots on too. They’re lucky in her mind, and add a little more boost to her kicks. 

Not that it should come to that.  Soul would surely draw a line somewhere, right? 

She double checks her hair, for no reason other than to buy time.  When she realizes how stupid she’s acting, Maka growls at her reflection.  She takes her hair out, brushes it, then replaces the pigtails.  It buys her less than five minutes.

Maka has less than thirty minutes to meet Soul at the fountain now.  It will take her almost fifteen to bike over.  Plenty of time to continue her freak out from earlier.  She wonders to the living room, sits on the couch and decides to think.

She thinks about Soul, about how much she would like to see him again.  She would like to talk to him more, but a part of her is afraid to meet up with him.  She’s not sure how to act around him.  Do they act like nothing happened, or is he going to bring up any of it again?  She’s worried for both sides, as neither is something she’s quite okay with.  She doesn’t want to dwell on such depressing and weak things, but the act of ignoring her suicide attempt seems wrong too.  How would anyone act when meeting again with the guy who saved their life?

She’s so caught up on how to behave that Maka doesn’t notice that twenty minutes have passed until too late.  She’s still nervous. But she had told Soul she would come, and the last thing Maka will ever be is a liar.

Maka cycles over to Death Square at a more leisure pace than she should be for being late.  She thinks it’s because of her stomach, which is in knots, and her mind, which is working so fast her body is on autopilot.  She’s probably lucky that she is even able to ride her bike in the first place.  Her feet peddle past various streets, her mind not registering their names.  Muscle memory is the only thing she can use at this time.

Maka arrives seven minutes past four. She finds a spot by the main meeting area to park her bike. She locks it in.  She double checks her bag. She lets out a large sigh. She has run out of distractions. 

As she moves towards the fountain, Maka scans the area. There are a few people here and there, but they don’t look like they’re waiting for anyone.  Instead, they are enjoying the afternoon without a care in the world.  Maka wants to feel the same peace, but she’s still on edge.  She wonders closer to the fountain, eyes looking for anyone that would be of college age and expecting company. 

Soul comes into view.

It’s his white hair that stands out among the groups of people around them.  He’s wearing the same leather jacket, and a pair of sunglasses cover his eyes from the afternoon light.  He’s standing slack, not facing her directly, but she can see his profile just fine.  His casual appearance makes her relax without knowing it. 

She doesn’t realize how much she had wanted to see him.  Not until he’s right there, within sight and near earshot. The excitement hits her like a ton of bricks. 

Before she can call out to him though, he turns completely away from her.  It seems he’s spotted a friend and is waving them over.  His posture is still slack, as though he’s not that eager to see this person that he already planned to meet up with. 

Maka gets closer still, her stomach flipping rather unpleasant at this point. The excitement is fading and she isn’t sure if she wants to go much further than this.  But it’s Soul, so maybe things will be worth it.  That’s when she spots who it is Soul is waving over.  The sight has her frozen in near terror.  She’s shocked and horrified.

A scowl stretches across her face as the friend in question is now in earshot.  Sid totally jinxed her.  On purpose too, she just knows it. 

“The great and powerful Black*Star has arrived! Bow to your god, mortal fools!” 

It’s probably not too late to run. 


	8. Him: 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Him: 4**  

He arrives at the complex twenty minutes until four.  Soul’s never been so punctual in his life.  Not since meeting Maka anyway.  She’s the reason for everything at this point.  He wants to be there early so he can check on her, before Black*Star gets all loud and obnoxious on them.  He’s an intimidating guy just in terms of personality, and Soul isn’t sure how comfortable Maka will be with the blue-haired male.  Talking to her ahead of time seems like the best idea.  Soul can’t help but worry though; his gut is telling him this is going to blow up in his face somehow. 

It’s probably a reasonable feeling, given how the last few days have been. But, then again, he may also just be blowing this out of proportion. Again. Either way, he’s nervous.  It’s so uncool. 

He stands at the fountain, eyes trained on the area around him. Soul looks for a cute, little blonde or a blue-haired moron.  He doesn’t know what the girlfriend looks like. He’s trying not to draw attention to himself though, as it would hinder his coolness a bit to seem anxious.  Soon it becomes just after four, and he thinks that Maka should have arrived by now.  She’s just the punctual type. Unless, she changed her mind. No, Maka said she would come.  He hasn’t received a message from her about it either.

So, imagine his surprise when Black*Star shows up, almost on time.  His friend is grinning that same confident smirk as he announces his arrival for the whole complex to hear.  Soul rolls his eyes, but waves back.  They greet each other with a high-five once close enough.  That’s when Soul notices the woman behind Black*Star.  She’s tall and pliant, with long black hair pulled back in a ponytail.  She smiles sheepishly at Soul as Black*Star continued his antics in his usual loud fashion. 

An opening appears in Black*Star’s ramblings, and the woman takes it. “Hello.”  She bows a bit. “My name is Tsubaki. You must be Soul Eater; it’s nice to meet you.”  She’s soft spoken, which throws Soul off a bit. 

Soul nods in greeting, opening his mouth to comment back, but Black*Star beats him to the punch.  “This is the goddess I told you about Soul.  I told you she was lovely.”  Tsubaki blushes the more he brags.  “We’ve been dating for almost a month now.”

“I find that hard to believe,” a familiar voice cuts in.  It sounds rather unamused and dry. “Are you sure she knows you two are in a relationship?” 

Black*Star is looking behind Soul, eyes wide as if he isn’t sure what he is looking at.  But Soul knows who it is. That irritated voice is so familiar.  He turns around slowly, eyes honing in on the girl he’s been so eager to see.  However, she does not seem to share his excitement. Instead, she looks annoyed, arms crossed and she’s glaring. But not at Soul.   

“Maka?” His best friend says with awe. 

“Black*Star,” the newest guest replies in turn.  “Sid sends his hello.” 

“You came all the way here just to tell me that?” 

She growls, “No, you moron. I came here because Soul invited me.” 

Black*Star looks at Soul, then back to Maka, then faces Soul again. “Wait, wait, wait.” He scowls in confusion, and Soul can feel some inner panic setting in.  His stupid, ominous gut clenches. “Maka the Bookworm is your new lady friend? How did you two even meet?” 

Soul does not know what to do with himself. His brain is falling apart while trying desperately to figure out what in the world is going on.  Black*Star knows Maka. Maka has a past with Black*Star. The two are already familiar with each other.  So much so that he has his own nickname for her. Soul doesn’t know what it means.

Also, Black*Star has asked a question he doesn’t know how to answer.  Not the first, because that question is rhetorical and even his best friend would be able to figure out that Maka is indeed the girl he’s been hung up on.  It’s the second question that has him on edge, because he doesn’t know how much Maka wants others to know.  He figured that it would have been limited to just “at a diner” but Black*Star is already acquainted with Maka, and this fact is just throwing him for a loop. Maybe he knows more about her than Soul does.  Maybe he knows about her home life and her depression. But, just how well do they know each other? He can’t think of anything else until this is explained.  It’s destroying his cool. 

Maka sighs as Black*Star continues to shake an unresponsive Soul, demanding answers.  “We met Tuesday morning. At a diner. Now, leave him alone, Black*Star.” 

Black*Star releases Soul at the command, but he doesn’t look happy about it. Soul watches in a daze as the two turn to face off against each other. 

“Listen you little nerd, I’m just trying to figure out what the hell is going on.”  He scowls at Maka before putting his hands on his hips.  “I mean, none of this makes sense. Why would Soul get so hung up over a bookworm like you?  I didn’t think you were his type. I didn’t think you were any guy’s type.” 

Maka growls back at him, her eyes blazing as she takes a decisive step forward.  “What the hell is that supposed to mean? You haven’t changed at all, have you? Still an insensitive idiot; what a waste of your college education. I’m getting dumber just talking to you.” 

They look like they are two sentences away from settling things the old fashion way.  Soul knows he should step in and stop them. He should take hold of Black*Star and tell the bastard to shut the hell up, but he’s still trying to figure out what is wrong with this picture.  He just stares at them in wonder as the two continue to push the other’s buttons.  They keep getting louder and louder. War is about to break out, and Soul can’t think about anything but how his best friend and new friend have a history. Why is this bothering him so much? It’s so uncool to be this freaked out. 

“Now hold on everybody,” a soft voice breaks in.  Tsubaki moves between the two’s quarreling, her hands up in a peaceful gesture.  “Let’s stop and take a deep breath, okay?  There’s no reason to make a scene.” 

Maka blinks at the other female, cocks her eyebrow with a look of surprise, but backs off without question. Black*Star is less inclined, so Tsubaki takes hold of his arm and continues to offer soothing words.  Maka is watching the couple interact, and Soul is watching all three of them in a daze.  The anger around the group dissipates to something more confusing but also more manageable. 

Maka speaks up first.  “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.” She’s smiling sweetly at Tsubaki, as though the whole thing with Black*Star did not just happen.  “I’m Maka, and you are?” 

“Tsubaki. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Maka.” She bows slightly, then glances at Black*Star. “If you don’t mind me asking, how do you two know each other? You had quite a reaction for just seeing each other.” 

This question has Soul at full attention.  Thank heavens for Tsubaki; she’s turning into quite the voice of reason.  She might end up being perfect for Black*Star. 

“Oh, that.” Maka snorts, rolling her eyes. “I’ve known this idiot since elementary school.” 

“Yeah,” Black*Star cuts in, his grin back. “Can’t you tell? We’re childhood friends!” 

Soul, again, has no idea how to respond to this. Tsubaki looks lost as well. 

“Friends is a bit generous, don’t you think?” Maka has a look of contained annoyance on her face.  “More like he’s been a pain in my ass for many, many years.” 

Black*Star give her a broad smile and cackles. “What are you talking about? You were my most loyal lackey in grade school. Wherever I went, you followed.”  

“I was just trying to keep you out of trouble, as a favor to Sid. You nearly got yourself killed that one time with the guard dogs if I hadn’t saved your stupid ass.” 

“Eh, don’t exaggerate it, Bookworm. I’m a god; like a bunch of stupid dogs could ever topple a great guy like me.” 

“You were seven years old, and they were each at least twice your size.” 

Soul watches in near fascination as they banter back and forth yet again, with less anger in the mix.  The hostility between them seems well contained and has morphed their conversation into some bizarre form of teasing. He doesn’t know how to feel about their relationship, as it’s not the clearest thing to him at this time.  As far as he can tell, Black*Star is still an idiot, and Maka puts up with said idiot.  And she has been putting up with said idiot for many, many years. 

Okay. Not totally clear. But he can work with this. At least he knows Maka won’t be intimidated by Black*Star like he thought she would.  She’s pretty comfortable with him. That should be a plus. It doesn’t feel like much of a plus, though. She’s just as much a spitfire as ever, and of course nothing less could handle Black*Star. 

Soul moves to stand by Maka, and this seems to grab her attention from his best friend.  She gives him a mixed look of annoyance and relief, as though she doesn’t know what to think of her current situation.  It’s very cute, he thinks. Soul grins back at her and finally managing a proper greeting that consisted of a head nod and appraisal of her sassy defense. She smiles a bit at his compliment, and Black*Star snickers in turn. Soul gives an all-encompassing eye roll. “Well, if you two have had you’re fill of yelling at each other, we did have other plans for today, right?”  That makes her scowl, as well as roll her big green eyes.  Black*Star keeps laughing. 

“Right; we had plans to eat then see a movie,” his best friend agrees.  “Let’s go.” 

Maka shrugs, but allows Soul to corral her after the couple down the sidewalk.  They follow in silence for a moment. She then looks up at him and grins apologetically. “Sorry about before.  He always grates on my nerves,” she huffs. “It’s like his special talent.” 

“It’s cool.” Soul shrugs. “Just didn’t expect you two to know each other.” 

“Yeah, same here. I thought… When you said you wanted me to hang out with your friends, I didn’t realize he was one of them.” 

Soul glances at her face, and again there is a weird look of discomfort on her half-smiling face.  He doesn’t know what is wrong. She was fine arguing with Black*Star, but now she looks uncomfortable. Is it his fault?  “I almost thought of warning you about him.” 

She snorts, “No word is enough warning for a guy like Black*Star.” 

Soul grins back, because that has to be the truest statement ever.


	9. Her: 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Her: 5**  

Well, this is weird. And a little vexing. And amusing, sort of—in a messed up way. Had she known that this is Soul’s friend group, she wouldn’t have spent her time worrying about it all.  She should have known that he wouldn’t hang out with anyone too horrible, but it’s also kind of weird to think that Soul and Black*Star would get along so well. Must be a guy thing. 

She’s watching them chat and laugh as they walk back from the café.  Black*Star shouts some stupid verse. Soul snorts out some lame response followed by a roll of his eyes.  They look like morons as Black*Star yells his comeback. 

Definitely a guy thing. 

Dinner had been a weird mash of introductions and backstories and catching up.  She learned how the two guys met in a freshman class first semester.  She learned that Tsubaki goes to the same gym as Black*Star and they met on the court.  She learned that Black*Star and Soul team up to make idiots of themselves. She learned she still has to smack them both around a bit for being said idiots. She also learned Tsubaki is probably the calmest and politest person in the world. 

At that thought, Maka glances over at Tsubaki, who is walking next to her. The girl is smiling a little to herself. Her eyes are darting between the two boys as they ramble.  She looks a little uncomfortable, or maybe nervous, but Maka isn’t sure why. 

She’s still surprised that Tsubaki is dating Black*Star. She’s just so quiet and sweet.  There must be more to it than just a simple attraction, but Maka isn’t confident that she should ask.  It’s too personal, and they’ve only just met.  In addition, from what Soul had mentioned and dinner’s events, this is also the first time he’s met Tsubaki. 

Maka has already figured out that this is some sort of double-date situation.  Soul hadn’t said anything about it, but Maka figures it had to have been Black*Star’s idea in the first place.  She wants to be mad at both of them for manipulating her, but she figures that this whole setup is for Tsubaki’s sake more than anything.  And she can’t be mad at her childhood friend for trying to be considerate.  Maka can be upset with Soul though, but that doesn’t feel right either.  He hasn’t tried anything that would suggest they were a couple, not even paying for dinner.  Actually, Black*Star paid for everything, like some sort of gentleman. It was weird, because Maka didn’t expect such a mature move.  He must be trying really hard.  All for Tsubaki. 

Her thought is broken by Black*Star’s loud laughter. She sighs for the umpteenth time, which catches Tsubaki’s attention.  Realizing this, Maka speaks up. “They’re both idiots, aren’t they?” 

Tsubaki gives a sheepish smile as her eyes stray over to her boyfriend and his best friend.  She nods once, smile still in place. “But it’s not all that bad, really.  They seem happy, and as long as no one gets into too much trouble…” 

Maka snorts, “Give him time. Black*Star attracts trouble.” 

Tsubaki’s smile widens. She giggles, “Yeah, he does seem to get into more trouble than anyone else I’ve ever met.  He sometimes gets into fights at the gym over who is tougher.” 

“Oh god. He used to do the same thing on the playground,” Maka groans. She can only imagine how he does things now. It’s a wonder how Black*Star hasn’t been kicked out of the gym permanently. “Never mind attracting it, that idiot makes enough trouble on his own.” 

Tsubaki just smiles some more, as though Black*Star’s antics are something she enjoys.  And maybe they are.  Stranger things have happened, Maka is sure.  She finds herself smiling back at Tsubaki, because this girl may be exactly what Black*Star needs in his life.  The thought makes her happy.  Looks like even stupid Black*Star can find himself a nice girl. 

A loud voice cracks through the girls’ moment. “Hey you two, hurry up or we’ll miss the movie. Don’t make your god wait!” 

Not that he _deserves_ her. 

Maka glares at the blue haired boy, but obliges in joining them for buying tickets.  Again, Black*Star pays.  Maka is starting to get more annoyed than impressed.  It must show on her face, because Soul gives her an eyebrow raise and shrugs.  His nonchalance is not exactly helpful. 

They’re heading towards the theater when Black*Star grabs Maka’s shoulder, pulling her away. “You two go on and grab us seats, okay? Maka and I will grab snacks.” 

“What?” Maka objects. “Why? We just ate.” But her statement falls on deaf ears as he continues to pull her away.  She glances at the others. Soul looks confused too but Tsubaki guides him to the doors of the theater, murmuring something to him.  Soul watches them with scrunched eyes, before they both go through the doorway. 

Maka huffs, heels dragging a bit as Black*Star heads towards the concessions.  They are silent in line. When it’s his turn he buys candy.  He then coerces her to sit with him on a bench. Maka is still trying to ignore him until he’s thrust some sweets in her face. She blinks, and realizes it’s her favorite chocolate candy since forever. 

“So, going to tell me what’s really going on between you two?”  Black*Star drawls out.  He pops a sour piece from his own candy box into his mouth. 

“Tsubaki and I? We just met, moron.”  Maka murmurs. She chews her own piece of candy as her eyes wonder the floor.  The nervousness is back. He’s being too serious. 

Black*Star snorts, “No, Bookworm. You and Soul.” 

“We’re going to be late for the movie.” 

“You’ve got fifteen minutes, including previews.  Start talking, Albarn.” 

Maka scowls, but shoves another chunk of chocolate into her mouth.  “It’s nothing.”   

“Don’t lie to me,” Black*Star replies, his tone hard.  “There’s some shit your hiding from me. I mean, you two met Tuesday? For breakfast at the diner? Soul works until four something in the morning, then goes home and sleeps until class.  When would he have time to run into you for breakfast? Why would you be out so early, or late, or _whatever_ in the middle of the week?” 

Maka finds herself giving a weak grin. “You know his schedule pretty well, huh?” 

“I know you pretty damn well too,” he adds.  “Which is why I wonder what you were doing at four in the morning.” He won’t let her distract him. Damn. 

She doesn’t know what to say, because he does know her. He knows everything about her and her family and the shit she’s grown up with. Black*Star knows, and anything she says is just going to set him off.  Which will set her off.  “It was…” 

She struggles to find the right words to explain herself, and she’s surprised because Black*Star is waiting for her answer.  Not all that patiently, what with his arms crossed and foot tapping, but he is waiting.  Since when has Black*Star been this perceptive?  He’s supposed to be the loud, rude, inattentive one of their duo.  It seems college has changed him, for the better. If only a little. 

Maka decides to relent, because even Black*Star deserves the truth.  “I thought I had hit the edge.” Her voice is soft. “I thought that I couldn’t take anymore of-of…” She doesn’t want to say it, and Black*Star doesn’t make her.  Instead he watches her, arms still crossed but foot now silent. She chews on another chocolate piece. “So I… I went out to Death City Bridge.” She swallows, hard.  “That’s when Soul found me.” 

She doesn’t elaborate beyond this.  There is a long silence. It’s very uncomfortable. 

“What was that?” Black*Star says at last. His voice is mellow, near flat.  Maka swallows again. Her body has a slight tremble as she breathes in a long breath. 

“You want to run that by me again, Maka? I don’t think I heard you right.” He pauses, but it’s clear he doesn’t want her to answer. “I mean, even if I didn’t hear you wrong, I must have misunderstood what you meant.  It sounded like you were implying you tried to jump off Death City Bridge.” He scowls, eyes glaring hard at her. They’ve changed, like they always seem to do when he gets mad.  “But you wouldn’t dare do something that stupid, would you Maka?  Not for that stupid-ass old man of yours.” 

Maka’s scared, but she’s also mad.  All the mixed feelings of Tuesday are flooding back and she doesn’t care anymore that Black*Star cares for her.  “Shut up; I don’t expect you to understand.  I was depressed! I didn’t think there was any other way.” 

“What? So you try to kill yourself?” He stands up too so he can glare down at her. Wait, when did she stand? It doesn’t matter. “The Maka I know is too stubborn to give in to that bastard. No matter the shit, you always dealt with it better than this.” 

“Shut up Black*Star.”  Maka focuses everything she’s got on keeping her legs up. 

Black*Star looks ready to retort, but then there is a tan hand in his face, shoving it back.  Maka gets a strong whiff of leather and some other musk as Soul shows up between them.  His iris seem to glow red as he glares at his best friend. Soul moves into a blocking stance in front of her, effectively hiding Maka from Black*Star, and growls low in his throat.  “The fuck is wrong with you two?  Getting snacks, my ass.” 

Maka blinks, and she feels a tear fall down her cheek.  She hadn’t realized they were piling up like this.  Black*Star looks very pissed; his eyes are darting back and forth between the other two.  Soul is still defensive but his attention is definitely on her. 

A long pause ensues. Now what? 

Black*Star speaks up first. “Why didn’t you tell me she tried that shit?” 

Soul looks lost for a moment, and he glances at Maka before answering. “I didn’t think it was any of your business.  Maka didn’t seem to want you to know.” 

Black*Star scowls back at Soul with little restraint. “Fuck that. If my friend tries to commit suicide because of her shitty old man, I want to know.” 

“Her old man?”  Soul repeats.  His eyebrows crease for a moment, and his lips purse together.  He then blinks, eyes falling on Maka. “Shit; is that why you didn’t want to go home? Why didn’t you tell me? Did something happen? Are you okay, Maka?” 

At this point, Maka is just tired.  Emotional exhaustion has won this battle, and she just can’t do anymore. She is officially done with all shit for the rest of this day. 

 “Movie’s starting.” She sighs, shoving them both towards the theater.  Neither seems capable of protesting as both stare at her, bewildered. “Our fifteen minutes are up.”


	10. Him: 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Him: 5**

Soul isn't sure what is going on. He had gone out to check on Maka and Black*Star, only to find them yelling at each other, again. They didn't even seem to notice that half the theater population was watching. Plus, Black*Star now knows everything. He knows everything about Maka's suicide attempt. _Everything_. And Soul still knows next to nothing. He got a little hint that Maka's father is somehow involved, but that doesn't clear the water. More like it just threw a big rock into the pond.

Soul's a little more than pissed about this fact. He doesn't like being out of the loop on important shit. He can't help Maka if she doesn't tell him what's wrong. He wants to help Maka, but for some reason she's not eager about letting him in. Why won't she just tell him? He wants to demand answers but Maka has him trapped in a movie theater, where any noise he makes she effectively shushes. So uncool.

"Maka, can we—"

"Shh," she hisses into the darkness, and adds a light smack to his arm for good measure. But with Maka, a light hit still bruises. He's learning that one fast.

Soul grumbles to himself the entire movie. She smacks him a few more times for doing it, but eventually gets too wrapped up in the story to focus on him. It saves Soul's arm, but he's still a little upset that she's working so hard to ignore him.

When they leave the theater, the air is thick with tension. Soul has his eyes on both Maka and Black*Star. The first is chatting with Tsubaki adamantly, and ignoring the two males. He isn't sure what it's about, but Soul isn't that interested. Black*Star still looks pissed, and he's taken to glaring back at Soul when he realizes the other male is watching him. Soul frowns back, and he wants to ask his friend about earlier but it's just too tense right now. The wrong question could blow this all up again, and Soul doesn't want to make a scene in front of Tsubaki. That would not be cool.

The group arrives at the fountain for the second time that day. Here, Tsubaki and Maka say their goodbyes. Tsubaki waves to Soul then takes hold of Black*Star's arm and gently convinces him to leave. Black*Star grumbles under his breath once, before giving Soul and Maka a look. "Alright, fine. Later, you two." They make it five feet before he turns back around and yells, "We're talking about this later!" He doesn't clarify who he will talk to, but both Maka and Soul know the topic.

Soul looks back at Maka, who is already moving away from him. She's trying to escape, but he won't allow it. Black*Star said later, but Soul wants his answers now. "Hold up, Pigtails. I'll walk you."

She looks up at him with those big, green eyes. A guilty look, no doubt. "Oh. Okay."

Soul follows after her, one step behind. His eyes are trained on her figure, and he notices little things that are giving away her blank appearance. Her back is just a little too straight, almost stiff. Her legs are also rather rigged as she walks. He stares at her hands, which are clenching and unclenching to a certain rhythm. He finds that rhythm matches his own steps.

Is it on purpose? Or just a subconscious reflex? He supposes that it couldn't be the former. Although the idea that it might be is a nice one. For some reason.

She manages to get to her bicycle, and he watches in silence as she unlocks it. It's red, with black and silver triangle-teeth patterned across the body. The thing looks a little too tough to be a girl's bike, but somehow it looks just right for Maka. Not that she's not a girl. She obviously is. Despite the flat chest, she's got a nice figure and pretty eyes and long legs and a nice smile and he really needs to stop. Now is not the time for this. And who is he trying to prove this to, anyway? Unless he said all that out loud. But Maka is still getting her bike stuff together, so he obviously hasn't said anything verbally.

She's reaching her helmet when he realizes that he's about to let her get away. Nice try, Maka-is-a-girl distraction. But Soul's too cool to fall for that.

He's about to speak when she looks at him. He freezes as their eyes meet for the first time since the incident. She speaks first instead, "Where are you parked? I can walk my bike there with you." He's about to ask why she would do such a thing when she uses her mind-reading powers and adds, "We need to talk, Soul."

He knows what the talk is about, but as a guy, that phase still freaks him out. Just a little. He keeps his cool though. "Alright then. I'm in the free lot; it's a bit of a walk." He shrugs, finger pointing back the way they came. "Last chance to escape, Pigtails." He jokes it in, but a part of him thinks he should still offer a chance for her to keep her privacy. Because cool guys don't pry, no matter how much he wants to.

She looks away, and he thinks she'll take it. He's terrified that she will. "No, I don't mind." Her eyes stray back towards him, but she's not looking right at him. "It's not that late or anything."

He nods, turns, and walks back towards his Harley. Maka follows behind him, and that distance is kept for a while. He doesn't push it. She's probably thinking. Let her figure out what to say, and he'll figure out how he should respond. It takes Soul a beat to realize he doesn't know how to prepare for the unknown. He'd make such a terrible Boy Scout.

He blinks out of his failed mental preparation to see Maka is now keeping pace beside him. Her eyes are downcast. He holds his breath. She starts.

"Even at the beginning of my childhood, can I remember that my father has always been a womanizer. He flirts with all woman, single or married, but preferably young. He has no boundaries. It's disgusting. And, it… has destroyed my family.

"Back when my parents were still together, my father would flirt with woman all the time. He'd flirt at work, parties, even during family events: like going out for dinner. He never hid it either. Not from me, or Mama. He'd always come home late into the night, drunk and disheveled. No excuses for it at all. But that wasn't the worst of it."

Maka pauses, and Soul risks a look at her. She appears to be collapsing into herself while walking. Weird, and concerning. He hopes she isn't crying. Soul is about to offer her some sort of get-out-of-telling-free card, but Maka is suddenly looking at him. Not around him, but right into his eyes. "He would tell my mother that he loved her." She says, voice solid and full of an emotion he can't quite identify. There is a pause. They've stopped walking. Soul is lost in her eyes, because they are dark and chaotic and seem to be shaking.

"He would tell her he loved her. Every time he cheated. He'd say them like those words would some how fix everything he just broke. It was the nastiest lie, and the only one he would ever tell." Maka frowns, but it looks more like sorrow than anger. "Ten years ago, my mother finally divorced him. I was happy for her, but… instead of taking me away from that man like I hoped for, she just left me behind."

Soul watches her. Watches how her eyes seem to fill with a special kind of loneliness. She looks like a child, not because of her hair, but because she is alone. Because she looks betrayed. Soul gets that. He gets all those feelings so well.

"And ever since she left, Papa hasn't changed at all. He still drinks and goes to stupid cabaret clubs or wherever else he can find a woman to fuck." Soul blinks because this is a word he didn't think Maka would ever say. It doesn't suit her. She must be seriously pissed. "And he always… tells me he loves me." Her voice drops off.

They'd begun walking again at some point. He isn't sure when. But they just keep walking anyway, and Maka doesn't say anything else. Soul doesn't either. He's trying to absorb it. He wants to take every word in, as well as the emotion she put behind them, because it's important to Maka. It's something that has haunted and hurt her. Something that made a lot of her mannerisms sort of make sense. A little.

He wants to ask her for more clarification, but he doesn't know how to word it. The distant look on her face tells him that he's gotten all he can out of her. For today at least. In any case, he doesn't know what to say to her. He's not good at comfort or support. Soul wishes he was, for Maka's sake at least.

They make it to the lot, and Soul wonders over to the bikes' area. Maka follows behind him. She's slow, and when he glances back at her, there is a confused look on her face. He grins, realizing this is the first time she'll see his baby. Sweet, time to rack up some cool points.

It's when he stops in front of his Harley that Soul realizes this is not the case.

"Where is your car?" Maka sounds horrified. Her face has a look of shock and confusion. Soul doesn't understand why she's so distressed.

"Never had one. The one you're thinking of belongs to my neighbor; I just borrowed it the other day." Soul gives his bike a quick check over before looking back at her. "What's got your panties in a twist?"

"You can't drive that; it's a death trap!"

"What? Don't be stupid. I know how to ride a bike." He swings a leg over and adjusts himself. "Besides, I look cooler on a Harley than in some dopey car."

She frowns. "Soul. You idiot," Maka huffs. "Do you at least have a helmet?"

"Cool guys don't need a helmet."

"Idiots are the only people who don't wear helmets." Maka counters.

"No; nerds are the only ones who wear helmets." He rebuttals, referring to the silver head protection hanging off her bike handles. He snickers at her responding huff.

Then, in what seemed like a fantastic and equally terrible idea, Soul makes a proposal: "Why don't I give you a ride home, Pigtails? Then you can see how great my Harley really is." He grins his signature toothy grin, a part of him hoping she'll at least consider the offer.

She scowls at him instead. "If I don't like the idea of you riding it, what makes you think I'll get on that metal death trap?"

Soul just keeps smirking, because she's getting really ruffled up about this. Her gloomy self is disappearing, and Soul is glad. Any other Maka is better than a depressed one. He likes her better with a fire in her eyes. "Oh, don't be so scared. I haven't gotten into one accident on her. Give me some credit here, Maka."

She just frowns again and eyes the machine as a whole. "Just get a stupid helmet, Soul." And then she gets on her own transportation, secures her own protective gear, and peddles away. In the end, he manages to hear "Later, Soul. And thanks."

The stupid grin is back on his face, but Soul doesn't mind too much. She's letting him in, if only a little. Soul can finally begin thinking of ways to make her life just a bit better. It's a start, he knows, and that's enough for now. "See ya later, Pigtails."


	11. Her: 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Her: 6**

She's busy double-checking her homework is done and correct when Maka gets a text. Her phone buzzes on edge of the far end of her desk. It's unexpected, and Maka glances at the device before returning to work. She refuses to have any distractions until this is done. She needs to make sure all her things are ready for school tomorrow morning. It's her normal weekend routine: do all homework Saturday, double check it Sunday. Whoever is texting her can wait.

Too bad they don't seem to agree.

Another few buzzes sound from her phone in quick succession. She glares at the device from her position over her textbook, willing it into silence. This works for about five minutes. Then the devices buzzes once more in mockery. Maka almost growls at the thing before just sighing. She decides to just give in, because it's obvious that the concentration she had before is gone at this point.

 _ **Its hot need ice cream**_ ,the first message says. The second message is a repeat of this phrase. The third message says, _**I need ice cream pigtails!1!**_ The fourth message just begs with a single _**Please**_.

Maka scowls, but isn't sure what she's upset about. It could be because Soul interrupted her study time. Or, it could be because he interrupted it for such a stupid reason. She decides that it really doesn't matter why she's mad, as long as she takes it out on Soul. So, she texts back: _And what, exactly, does your need for ice cream have to do with me?_

The response is immediate: _**Lets go to Death Robbins**_

 _Right now?_ She doesn't feel like getting up. Plus, she still has history notes to check.

_**I'll pick you up** _

_I'm not getting on that death trap._

_**Stop calling her that. Youll be fine** _

Maka pauses, half of her not believing that she's even considering this. It's incredibly unsafe. That motorcycle could kill her. It could kill Soul. One wrong move and it could put both of them in the hospital. She shouldn't even be—

Her phone lights up in her hands, the new message reading: _**I bought a helmet**_

She stares at the words a moment, then snorts out a fit of giggles. He bought a helmet? Just because she said so? What a dork. And he thinks that will win her over too. Like having one piece of safety gear is going to make or break the deal. As if. No way. A helmet is not enough to keep them from dying on that metal contraption.

 _Fine._ Her reply reads. Maka blinks. Stupid betraying hands. That is not what she meant to type. Weren't they paying attention to her brain at all? She meant no. Maka was going to text him a "no".

_**Be there in ten** _

Maka growls, frustrated that she ever allowed herself to be dragged into this mess. Maka glances out her window. Even from the comforts of her air conditioned home, she can tell that Soul is right. It's super hot outside. That means she has to change out of her comfy sweat pants into something that won't make her melt ten feet from her door. Darn it.

A pair of shorts, tee shirt, and flip flops later, Maka is as ready as she can be. She's cleaning off her desk when the soft noise of a revving engine sounds from outside.

Maka moves through the living room, spotting her father asleep on the couch. She pauses to look at him, and can't help but think that it wouldn't be so bad if he stayed like that. Maka finds a sticky note on the coffee table and writes that she's going out. She contemplates sticking it to his forehead, but doesn't because that might wake him. Instead, she tacks it to the remote, which had dropped out of his slack hand.

She races out the front door, locking it. Maka looks to see Soul is out in front of her driveway, sitting on his motorcycle. And not wearing a helmet.

"Liar." She frowns as she moves towards him. It's a minor thing to lie about in the grand scheme of things, but she didn't think Soul would lie to her. Not over something so stupid as a helmet. In fact, Maka never once thought he would lie to her period. Is that weird? Maybe a little. Probably a lot, actually.

"'Scues me?" He mock frowns back. He holds a hand up to his chest, as though he's been wounded. "I am no such thing." Only then does Maka realize he's holding something out of her eyesight. Once she does seem to notice it, Soul grins that stupid toothy smile at her and raises the hidden object. A biker's helmet.

It's sleek and shiny. And silver, not unlike her own riding helmet. There is also a sticker slapped on it at a angle, as though he just put it on as an afterthought. It's a mouth, with sharp lines to resemble teeth. They kind of remind her of Soul's. The letters E. A. T. are also spelled out around the border. What a weird sticker to have.

Maka's so caught up on that strange choice of decoration, that she fails to notice Soul getting off his bike. He takes three steps towards her, hands holding up the protective gear. It's not until she's having to look up at it does she realize he's even moved. When she does notice, however, it's too late to react.

He puts the helmet on her in a flash. It settles on her head easy, and he has the strap snapped and secured with a few flicks of his hand. She blinks slowly in those few seconds, brain trying to figure out what he's even doing. When she does open her mouth in objection, Soul flips the wind visor down over her eyes with a smirk.

"Still a little too nerdy for me," He admits with a chuckle, "but it looks good on you, Maka."

She closes her mouth. Then opens it again. Then closes it one last time. Maka pouts behind the visor and crosses her arms. "Shut up, Soul." He only laughs in return.

Soul turns and remounts his bike. He gets the engine on before noticing Maka hasn't moved. He gives her a confused look, then waves her over. She doesn't move still. He frowns at her. Maka scowls back.

"And where is your helmet?" She calls out over the engine.

"I said I bought a helmet. That's all you asked for, right?" Soul replies with a shrug. She growls at this, because she's been tricked by clever word play. Not that he could hear her angry sounds over the noise of the engine anyway. Or through the visor. Stupid Soul. She moves to take the helmet off, and he yells, "Hey, you're the one who wanted it. Wear it." She wants to refuse him, but her gut clenches at his stupid toothy grin. "I told you, cool guys don't need a helmet."

Maka shoots him one last unseen look before giving into his demands. It's too hot to argue after all. She carefully climbs onto the bike behind Soul and does her best to situate herself. She knows enough to grab onto him, but it's too weird to wrap her arms around Soul's torso. Instead, Maka grips his shoulders, her fingers bunching up the back of his shirt. Soul doesn't comment on her choice. She's relieved.

He does give her a warning yell before he takes off, which is nice but not all that helpful in the end. Maka still screeches as he revs away, her nails no doubt digging into his shoulders as she prays for someone, somewhere, to have mercy on her. Soul is not the person she prays to though, because he's laughing at her reaction. She wants to hit him for being so mean—and on purpose no less, but her fingers are permanently tangled in his shirt. She's more grateful for the helmet than ever.

They take the outer roads to town, and Maka knows Soul is driving curves and hills just to freak her out more. And then, they hit the inner workings of Death City. Now, there are lots of lights, and the path is mostly straight. Maka finds she likes the ride a lot more when it's just a straight run. It's like she's running fast and hard, but with none of the effort. It would be good to tell Soul her contempt though.

They make it to the Death Pain Square in no time, but the journey still felt long to Maka. He parks, and she gets off first. She's not a shaky as she thought she would be. If anything, she feels invigorated as the air that she breathed while riding had made her lungs vibrate as much as her heart. She's glad for the visor. It hides most of her face; she doesn't want Soul to know just how much she really likes his bike.

But when she glances at him, she can see his figure hesitating about something. It's obvious Soul wants some sort of response to the ride. It's like he's a puppy, his eyes dancing with reserved excitement. Might as well throw the dog a bone.

"I'll admit," Maka confides as she removes the helmet, "That was pretty cool."

Soul looks confused for a moment. Then his face goes blank. Maka worries that she said the wrong thing. He always talked about being the coolest guy around; wasn't this what he wanted to hear? This is too confusing. She was only trying to be nice.

"Really?" Soul breathes at last. There is this happy look on his face. It's not like his usual toothy smirk. This face is much more real, much more contempt, and his eyes seem to glow red with warmth. She must have said exactly the right thing.

And then she ruins it.

"Don't get cocky. The bike is cool, but you're still an idiot."

Except Soul doesn't look the least bit put off by her jibe. If anything, his eyes seem to sparkle more with mirth. His grin is back, and he laughs out right at her comment. He laughs hard, like she told the best damn joke he's ever heard. He's such an idiot. But Maka finds herself grinning back, because the rush is still in her and Soul just looks so happy about everything, and that makes her happy for some stupid reason.

They stay like that for a while. Soul calms down enough to put the helmet away. He locks his bike up, and then sticks out an elbow. Maka eyes the appendage and his toothy grin. He still looks like the happiest guy around, even with that stupid smirk.

"Shall we grab our ice cream?"

Maka rolls her eyes at his antics, then bypasses his offering all together. She makes it ten steps ahead before turning around. She fakes her frustration at him. "Hurry up, Soul; it's hot and I apparently need ice cream."

His mirth is unwavering. "And what does your need have to do with me, Pigtails?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Maka tilts her head. "You're buying."

She decides to see how long it lasts.


	12. Him: 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Him: 6**

Why is she just so… ridiculous? He can't really say cute, although the word does come to mind. However, Maka isn't "cute" by normal definition, so Soul can't use it in good conscious. He needs a better word to describe her: something very "Maka-like." Yet, as he watches her march ahead of him, he can't think of anything in particular. There is no good word to describe a girl like Maka. She's just so _Maka_.

And Soul has really grown to like her for being so _Maka_.

She reaches Death Robbins before him, and she doesn't even wait before going in. She's acting like she's mad at him, but really Soul just finds it funny. She's being really funny today. He doubts he'll stop finding her antics funny. And he doesn't particularly mind that at all. Mainly because this type of mad doesn't cause him any real physical pain.

When Soul gets inside, he notices Maka already at the counter. She's staring up at the menu and ticking off her fingers about something. A sinking feeling hits him, and Soul can feel his wallet shrinking in size. He may regret this type of Mad Maka.

When he gets to the counter, Maka gives him this half grin, half smile thing. He doesn't know what face he's making back. It must be pretty painful though, because the half-and-half turns into a full grin on her face. She turns back to the cashier and tells them she's done with her order. Maka then motions for Soul to order his. He isn't even sure he can afford ice cream for himself at this point. What did she buy? The register gives nothing away, as it's an old 1800 style machine with no face. Maka just keeps grinning. The cashier doesn't look interested either. Traitors. All of them.

Soul orders a basic item. He prays this doesn't cost more than ten bucks. Some of the ice cream specials they have cost way more than anyone should ever pay for ice cream. Is Maka aware of that? He told her before that he was a poor college student. He cut out his parents' support years ago. It's just him, and he can't really do much.

The total comes out to be just over seven dollars. Soul is both relieved and surprised. He sends an over-the-shoulder at Maka, but she's disappeared. He pays quick, then scans the store area for her. Soul spots her at a booth near the corner, next to the windows. She's already sitting comfy and staring out the window. Soul grabs the table number call-card before going back to join her.

They sit in silence while waiting for their ice cream. Soul can't think of anything to say. Maka doesn't seem to be paying attention.

The arrival of ice cream cuts through the quiet. A young woman places each treat down on the table, but doesn't attempt to sort out who they belong to. Soul knows his though. The desert he ordered was a basic sundae: vanilla topped with hot fudge. He glances at Maka's choice. It mirrors his own, except for the topping being a golden color and there is an additional sprinkle of cookie crumbs.

Oh. Well, that isn't nearly as bad as he thought. Why did she lead him on like that, what with counting off her fingers? He frowns, mouth open to complain when he realizes Maka is busy chatting with the woman who dropped off their treats. He glances at the other being, who is tall and has long, dirty blond hair. She has a half smile on her face, and when Soul looks at Maka, her face is twisted into a scowl.

"It is not."

"I'm sure. But you have to admit, it sure looks like a date," the woman replies with a whip of her hair. She puts a hand on her hip and leans the other on the table. "I'm just sayin' Maka, it totally does."

Maka growls back before looking at Soul. "Tell her it's not a date."

Soul blinks. He's not sure what's going on. He didn't ask Maka out on a date; this is more of a friendly meeting slash "Talk About Maka's Problems" intervention. Yet, he can't deny that it sure does seem like a date from an outside perspective. And he's not really against that idea. Not that he's thought about it. Dating Maka, that is. Of course not. That would be weird and very inappropriate since he just wants to be her friend.

He casts his eyes from the anger filled ones across from him to the ones holding mirth. "It's not a date," Soul drawls out in the most noncommittal voice he can.

The woman doesn't look the least bit convinced, but snorts out an "okay" before grabbing their call-card. She saunters away, hand waving and a sly grin across her face. Soul can hear Maka sputter something back, but he isn't sure what.

Maka's eyes follow the woman for a moment longer before she huffs and rolls her eyes in obvious annoyance. She then shoves a large scoop of her neglected ice cream into her mouth. She's quick to take two more large bites before remembering to breathe. Soul makes his move in her pause to breathe.

"So… uh, who was that?"

She looks up at him and blinks. "Oh," Maka mumbles. Her face takes a nice shade of pink. "That was… um, Liz. She's a sister of a friend. And a friend of a friend."

Soul nods, his hand absently stirring his sundae to mush. "But she's not your friend."

Maka flinches; her big, green eyes grow wider. "No! She is. We are friends." She sighs and chews on her plastic spoon. "She's just nosy. Liz loves to gossip. Especially about anything embarrassing." Maka takes another scoop of caramel and cookies. "But she's always seems to know everything too; I think Liz gossips so she can give others her own special brand of 'advice'." Soul nods in understanding.

They fall back into a not-so-comfortable silence. Why is this so hard? Soul doesn't understand where the tension is coming from. Maybe she's still upset about the date comment from Liz. Maybe Maka knows why he really asked her here. Maybe Soul needs to stop pussyfooting around and just talk to her about all this shit running through his head.

"Listen, Maka," Soul manages after a flick of his spoon. He's not even made a dent in his desert. "I wanted to talk about Friday."

He watches her freeze, hand muscles tense in mid motion to her mouth. But, like always, Maka bounces back fast. "Ah," she nods once as she sets her spoon back in the half-full bowl. "I see. I figured something like that was the case." She's not really looking at him, more like his bowl of ice cream. "You didn't seem that interested in your ice cream, after all."

"Yeah, um," Soul coughs before rubbing his head. "It was the first thing I could think of for a day like this." Maka makes no comment to this, so he keeps going. No turning back now. Time to throw all the cards on the table. "Listen; Black*Star called me yesterday. He wanted to know more about what happened Tuesday."

There's a long pause, and Soul lets Maka digest his words. She again says nothing about the situation, but at least she nods at him to continue.

"I didn't know what was safe, but I just sort of told him the outline. Ya know, seeing you on the bridge and convincing you to have breakfast with me. That stuff."

"Did you tell him that I was over the ledge?" Maka asks. She's looking at him with worried eyes, chaos swimming around the orbs. "Did you tell him I nearly fell in?"

Soul shakes his head. He didn't tell Black*Star anything too revealing or too embarrassing. He knows his best friend, and he has a vague idea of how Black*Star acts out when it comes to Maka. The last thing he needs is to blow things out of the water and renew tension. The less details the better. And Maka is safe now; surely that is all that really matters. Not that Black*Star will focus on that area of the story.

Maka relaxes a bit more into her seat, nodding her head in tangent with his own. "I see. Thank you, Soul." There is a pause before she adds, "I was wondering what would happen next. I was hoping it could all just be forgotten."

Soul frowns at this, because ignoring a suicide attempt is not a solution. Ignoring anything at all has never been a good solution. "Maka," he sighs. "You can't just snub this off. I mean, the cause it your own father."

"But, I'm fine now." There's something akin to a pout on her face as she crosses her arms. "I've learned my lesson."

"This isn't some lesson you have to learn."

"It's fine, Soul. Just drop it. I won't do it again."

"You need to fix the problem. You can't keep looking the other way."

"I'm not looking the other way," she hisses. Maka grabs her spoon and proceeds to stab her ice cream. The mixture swirls with reserved violence. "Everything's fine now. There is nothing to worry about. I have everything under control."

Soul leans forward, the table holding him back from shaking Maka to her senses. "Under control? You can't be serious. Have you even told your dad what happened? Does he know you tried to kill yourself because of what he keeps doing? This isn't a solution, Maka. You're just running away." He won't let her run away.

She growls at him, "Back off Soul."

He growls back, "Not happening Maka."

She looks like she wants to bite his head off. In his right mind, Soul would be pretty terrified of such a look, but he isn't in his right of mind. Soul is pissed, because he doesn't seem to be getting anywhere at this point. Maka's stubborn-ass self won't admit she's still upset. He can't help her fix anything if she won't even point at the problem. But Soul is not giving up. Just because Maka is ignoring her fears doesn't mean that he has to back off.

He takes a deep breath, deciding that losing his cool is not how this is going to go down. She's mad enough for the both of them, after all. "Maka," Soul drawls. "I'm not letting this go." She frowns at this, but he continues on before she can't hiss anything out. "Maybe things are okay now, but how much longer can you live like this? You hit your limit Tuesday, and the first solution you had was running away. And what's worse it was off a bridge!" She's not looking at him; her head is facing out the window. "But, Maka," and the way he says her name has her looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "I promise you, running away is not how to fix this. I've done it a thousand times, and things just got worse each time. If I could fix all those mistakes, if I had just done it right the first time… Hell, Maka, I'm still running!"

She blinks, the hard set on her face falling. She turns to face him completely, but the expression she's making looks lost. Maka opens her mouth, but no noise comes out. Eventually, she tries again, and this time words tumble out. Words Soul wish he hadn't brought up at all.

"What are you running from, Soul?"


	13. Her: 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Her: 7**

She doesn't know what to say to him. She doesn't know how to fix her mistake. She doesn't even know what she did wrong. It seems a little unfair for Soul to be so mad at her when he was the one to bring it up. Yet, here they are, one storming ahead on the sidewalk, and the other following because she doesn't know what else to do.

When he had mentioned his own mistakes, Maka had been curious. When she asked him to elaborate, though, Soul clammed up fast and openly ignored her. But, she hadn't dropped it and now he's pissed. Which is a double standard that pisses her off. It's his fault for even mentioning those things in the first place. She didn't know Soul's issues are taboo talk, or whatever. And why is it okay that his problems are dropped? He was just talking about how she shouldn't ignore what bothers her, but now that a real-life example has presented itself, he gets a quiet and prissy.

Jackass. He's such a jerk.

At least, this is what Maka is trying to convince herself is true. It's not really working. Instead of being upset with him, she's just annoyed. It's not fair; Maka wants to know what it is Soul is running from. She hadn't thought he would have the kind of problems worth running from. And, when she thinks about that, Maka becomes sad. And mad at herself. Sad and mad because she's just being a selfish brat about all of this and Soul is just trying to help her for no reason other than to help.

She reaches her hand out towards him, but hesitates the last inch. She wants to touch him, to comfort Soul and tell him that it's okay. But, she doesn't know if it is okay or not. It's hard to offer comfort when she doesn't even know what's wrong. Is this how Soul has felt? She doesn't even know if her touch will be welcomed by him. Maybe he doesn't need her like she needs him.

Does she need him? Probably, if the past week is anything to go by. He's been an anchor for her, and though it was unexpected, it is not unwelcome. Soul has become necessary. Maka needs him.

She grabs his bicep, fingers wrapping around his arm as the muscles tense. He pauses, which gives her the chance to catch up to his pace and walk beside him. Maka doesn't let go of Soul's arm though. She holds it with both hands now, leaning against him just a bit. It's not for her support. Soul doesn't shake her off, but he does adjust himself so they can walk down the sidewalk more comfortably. They walk at an easy pace. They don't say anything to each other.

She wants to say "I'm sorry." She doesn't know what she would be apologizing for though. It could be for the ice cream, for being stubborn about her issues, for ignoring his issue with his issues. Maybe she's sorry for everything and nothing all at the same time. She doesn't say it though. Instead, Maka tilts her head just a bit, just to tap his shoulder once. He doesn't respond to the gesture.

Soul says nothing. He just moves forward. She moves with him. Maka says nothing.

They wonder around Death Square, supposedly looking at things and definitely not speaking. It's hot still. Maka's sure she's going to sweat through her shirt. It's embarrassing to think that her hands are sweating on Soul's arm. Maka can't tell if he can tell. She doesn't let go of him though. Letting go is no longer an option. It hasn't been since that Tuesday.

It's become obvious that she can't just walk away from this new connection of theirs. But she's worried that Soul can, especially now.

She's so busy worrying about how to fix Soul's anger that she fails to notice him dragging her into a store. It's when the air conditioning smacks her in the face that Maka realizes she's in a candy shop. It's cute and refreshing. Soul moves out of her grasp and into the isles, but Maka choses to take a moment to cool off some more.

Once she's more comfortable, Maka too wonders the isles. She looks for nothing in particular as her eyes glaze over the colorful wrappers. Everything's organized by type. There is a gummy isle, a chocolate one, a nut isle, and an entire wall of jelly beans. She eventually finds Soul in front of an old-fashioned soda machine. He's popping a lid onto his cup as she walks up and notices her before she can speak.

"It's pretty hot out," is his offhanded comment, followed by a shrug of his shoulders. Maka doesn't know what he's trying to say about it. She's more than aware of the temperature. Before she can comment on that fact though, Soul hands her a cup. When she does nothing with it, he points at the fountain. "Get something."

"Ah," Maka sighs. She nods slowly. "Okay." And she proceeds to fill up the cup with cola. She doesn't drink soda that often, but Soul wants her to have some, and she won't argue. Not if it means he'll talk to her again.

When she has her drink filled and sealed, Maka turns back to find Soul at the counter. She wonders over only to find he's already accepting change at the counter. She frowns at this, but follows him outside again.

"Stop paying for everything."

"What?" His straw almost stabs him in the nose as he looks at her.

"I brought my wallet," she continues. "I can pay for myself."

"It thought this was my treat?"

"Only the ice cream," Maka clarifies. "I can pay for my own soda. I mean, this isn't some date from the fifties."

He nods slowly while taking an obnoxious slurp of his soda. "I thought this wasn't a date."

She scowls. "It's not."

He shrugs, but continues to gulp down his soda.

Maka stops walking and growls. "It's not a date, Soul. Don't be stupid." Her arms cross precariously with the held soda as she does her best to glare him into submission. "I just don't want you to waste all your money on me."

"It's not wasting," Soul replies. He seems unaffected by her attempts to intimidate him. Instead, he's grinning at her. "You were hot, Pigtails. We needed a drink."

She sighs, but can't argue it. This means he did notice, which is both nice and totally embarrassing. How fantastic. The nickname is back, too, she observes. It's strange that one word could be such a relief to her. Maka ends up taking a few quick sips of her soda, willing her embarrassment away.

Soul chuckles in return, obviously pleased to win the argument. He grins at her again, but it doesn't seem nearly as happy as any of the previous. At least it's there. Maka missed his stupid, shark teeth grin.

"Hey," he starts after they begin walking again. "Wanna go see a movie?"

Maka thinks about it, but decides against the idea. There isn't really anything she wants to see, and she isn't much in the mood for it anyway. She shakes her head, eyes cast at her soda. "No, not really. There isn't anything good out."

Soul disagrees, "What about that one we saw Friday? It was pretty good. You looked like were really into it."

She knows that's a lie. Maka had forced herself to get into the movie so she could avoid his questions. It was cowardly. And the more she thinks about it, the more she finds Soul's earlier comments to be true. Maka is trying to run away. However, she doesn't want to, not like this anyway. Maka Albarn is not a coward.

"It was okay," she admits after a beat. "But, I don't think I would see anything like it again. Those types of movies aren't really my thing."

"Oh. What movies are your thing?"

Maka thinks about it a minute. "I don't know. Action, probably. A little bit of comedy too, I suppose." She sips her drink for a moment before nodding. "I like horror. Tasteful horror, that is. None of that over-dramatic, bad acting stuff." He chuckles at her comment. She smiles a bit in turn, but hides it with the straw of her soda. "What about you?"

"Hm," he hums. "I don't know. Action adventures are pretty cool. And some thrillers and horror. I'm more into who's acting and directing the movie than what genre it is."

Maka wrinkles her nose. "I'm bad with those kinds of things."

"'Those things?' What, you mean actors and directors?"

"Yeah," she admits with a shrug. "Even if I like the actor, I tend to associate them by the movies they're in. I can never remember their names."

Soul hums again, and that's about it. He has a weird look of contemplation on his face. She's about to ask him another random question when he speaks up. "What actors would you like then?"

"Oh, uh," Maka mumbles. She wracks her brain, trying to think of a good choice. She can't think of anything though, and blames it on the fact that she's been put on the spot. "Well, there's the classic movies. You know, those spy movies from the eighties? I like that actor." It's not a very convincing statement.

"The eighties…" Soul mimics. His nose scrunches as he slurps up the last of his drink. "I didn't know you liked older movies."

"Well, yeah. I like their style." She shrugs. "I like classics in everything. Classic movies, classic books-"

"Classical music?" Soul adds. He has this strange tone in his voice and his body is slightly stiff. He looks like he's forcing himself to be casual, but Maka doesn't buy it.

"Hm. I don't know. I've never really listened to any. I don't know a lot about that kind of stuff really. I don't listen to a lot of music."

"Oh." And Soul goes quiet.

She quirks her eyebrow. "Why? Do you like classical music, Soul?"

Soul sighs and trashes his cup. "I don't know. Maybe." His voice is too vague to understand though.

And Maka doesn't know what to say to that.


	14. Him: 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Him: 7**

He feels bad about his attitude that Sunday. It wasn't Soul's intention to become the aversive one that day. He wanted to help Maka, not trouble her. Admittedly, Soul isn't ready to talk about his problems with Maka yet. It feels weird to dump all his issues on her. It's not like they're her problems to deal with anyway. Besides, she's better off not knowing those sort of insecurities. Like his inability to even be in the same room as his family. Or how he can't help but loath his brother's existence, but loves him all the same. Or how just looking at his father makes Soul want to puke.

In any case, Maka's problem is far more concerning. Her father is a prominent issue in her life, compared to Soul's own. He moved all the way to another state just to avoid the overarching pressure and ultimate disappointment wave, but Maka doesn't have that ability. Not that it's even a good solution. Soul can vouch for that.

He decides that he should, at the very least, apologize to her for being a dick about Sunday. He texts her Monday afternoon, telling her he'd gladly give her a ride home. Work is the night shift after all. He's got the time. Plus, Maka likes his bike. She's stubborn, but she did say it is cool. Maka thinks his Harley is cool. And that means everything.

Soul never gets a response from her about a ride, but he decides he can still show up and wait for her. So that's what he does. Soul arrives about five minutes before the high school lets off. He waits, leaning against his bike in the lot. When people begin to flood out, Soul tries to discreetly look for her through the throngs of people. There are a lot of girls who stop to look at him. Most giggle, some wave, but Soul couldn't care less. None of them are Maka.

The crowd clears away fast. Soon, there is next to no one at the school; the lot has cleared considerably as well. Soul wonders if he missed her. He's about to pull out his phone and text her when he spots Maka coming out of the building. She's dressed in the same uniform as all the other girls, yet Maka seems to wear it right. Soul never thought much of plaid before, but the skirt she's wearing makes him wonder just a bit. The crisp, white dress shirt is also more attractive than Soul is used to. All in all, the prep look suits her.

She's not alone, however. Next to Maka is a guy in a pure black uniform. It looks like the other male uniforms Soul has seen, but it is distinctly black in color, with a white dress shirt poking out of the collar. How is he not passing out in the heat? Soul can't even tell if he's noticed the temperature. The guy's hair is also black, but has three, horizontal stripes on one side.

He's not exactly who Soul expected Maka to have as a friend. For one, he's a _he_ , which Soul thought Maka thought was taboo. Second, he's gothic, and that doesn't seem to match Maka's personality at all. Not that Soul knows anything about Maka's types or anything. Friend or otherwise. That sort of thing isn't really his information to know.

She's talking to him with stiff arms that motion out in front of her. Mystery Guy is listening, his face firm set as he nods along with whatever Maka is saying. She's adamant to explain herself to him, and it must be important because she's not even paying attention to anything else. Soul included. Not that he's tried to get her attention. He's still standing by his Harley, staring like a creep at a girl he wish he better understood.

Soul decides to knock off this uncool behavior by moving towards the other two. He gets within range to better what the conversation is, yet neither has noticed him. He's half listening to the words Maka's spouting out— something about confetti and if the color scheme is functional— as he approaches. Mystery Guy notices Soul first, and his eyes widen. He watches Soul carefully, and Soul notices his eyes are actually golden in color. Soul is suddenly very aware of his hair and eye color. He can't help but be reminded that he's one gene short of being an albino.

Maka seems to realize that her companion isn't listening anymore and turns to face the interruption. Recognition alights in her eyes as Soul waves at her in a very uncool fashion.

"Soul?" She sounds surprised, but that's about it. "What are you doing here?"

He grins, a hand coming up to scratch at his neck. "I sent a text. Guess you didn't see it though."

"Oh," she replies. She looks a little sheepish herself. "Sorry, Soul. I've been so busy with graduation details." She blinks, a surprised look crossing her face. She turns back to Mystery Guy. "That's right. Death the Kid, this is my friend Soul. Soul, this is Death the Kid, my vice president on the student council."

Mystery Guy nods out of politeness. "Nice to meet you Soul." They shake hands. His grip is strong on Soul's own hand.

"Ditto, Death the Kid?" Soul is perplexed by the goth. Even his name matches up.

"Just Kid is fine. It's a family name."

 _Right_. Soul tightens his grip at Kid's tone. It's one that any guy would recognize. He's not sure what Kid is trying to imply with this challenge, or what exactly he's being tested on, but Soul's not about to back down. A cool guy never wusses out of a man's challenge.

"Cool," Soul replies with a lazy drawl. Their hands let go, but Soul keeps eye contact. His signature grin stretches across his face. He works to show off all of his shark-like teeth at Kid. "Wait. He's the vice president? Does that mean your president, Maka?"

She smiles weakly in return, seeming not to notice the tension between the males. "Yeah. It's pretty high maintenance thought. Especially with graduation at the end of the month."

"But you do a fantastic job," Kid assures without missing a beat.

"Thanks, Kid, but it's not like I do everything. I don't know what I would do without you and Kim."

There's a teasing look on Death the Kid's face. "What about Ox?"

Maka bristles at the mention of the new name. "God, no. That jerk does nothing but try and get under my skin." She pauses, then shrugs. "And flirt with Kim," she adds as an afterthought.

"Who is Ox?" Soul cuts in. He won't admit that being this far out of the loop bothers him. However, it's not like he has a right to know about anything. But that doesn't mean he doesn't want to.

"Ox," huffs the blonde, "is my secretary of student affairs." She rolls her eyes. "He also happens to be my academic rival. That jerk is always trying to steal my slot in as the top student."

Soul chuckles at her obvious annoyance, and Maka pouts in return. He can't help but find the situation humorous. It feels like Maka's nerdiness has reached new heights. And it's really adorable. "Wow. Student prez and top of the academics. I'm impressed. Figures though; I don't know how I missed it, Pigtails."

"Shut up, Soul." There's no bite to it though.

"Anyway," Soul drawls, spirits still high. "I'm here to offer a ride home. And possibly hangout. Interested, Pigtails?"

Maka frowns a bit. Not a good sign. "Well, I always take my bike to school. I won't be able to get it home if I go with you, Soul. Unless you brought the car?"

"Nope." Soul pops the last syllable. He's a little annoyed for not thinking this plan through, as now he has to try and salvage his cool. "I brought my baby." Because he knew she liked it.

"Oh." She looks a little sad about this fact, but maybe that's just wishful thinking on his part. Well, even if he's just imagining it, Soul can't let Imaginary Maka be sad. That's not what cool guys do at all.

"Well, maybe we could meet up later," Soul offers. He hopes that doesn't sound too desperate. He can feel Death the Kid watching him closely. Not cool.

Maka makes no response. She seems to be thinking. Soul wonders if she's still upset about Sunday. They had departed on rocky terms, but Maka could have decided to hold a grudge about it. Or she's ignoring their argument. Was it an argument? Well, he's here to make it up to her anyway. Maybe he should have started with that.

"Maka," Kid speaks up. The other two both look at him. "I can handle the decoration issues myself." His posture becomes even straighter as he smiles at her. "You needn't worry about it. Why not enjoy your afternoon?"

"Are you sure?" Maka replies. "I don't feel right pushing all this onto you."

"Nonsense. I can gather the resources for you to view tomorrow. It's no trouble." Kid places a hand on Maka's shoulder. Soul unconsciously notices that she doesn't flinch away from it. Soul unconsciously gets annoyed by this fact.

"You work hard Maka," Kid continues. "But it's alright to rely on me too."

Maka hesitates another moment, then nods. She smiles at Kid. "Okay; thanks Kid. I'll leave it to you. We can catch up tomorrow." He nods in agreement and releases her shoulder. Maka then uses the chance to turn back to Soul. "Alright, let me get home and we can hang out after. Want to meet at my place?" She sounds happy enough, but there is a nervous edge to her motion. Soul isn't sure why though; he could never turn her down.

"Sure," he drawls, hoping to bounce off her nerves. "I'll see you there."

Maka nods back. She then turns to Death the Kid, bids him goodbye, and jogs off to her bike.

Soul turns to head off towards his motorcycle, but is stopped by a cough. He faces Kid again, an eyebrow raised. The other lowers his fist from his former coughing face and gives Soul a meaningful look.

"Pardon me, but, might I have a word before you go, Soul?" He inclines his head just a bit to stand taller than before. It doesn't add much of a change however. The reality is that they are both about the same height. The gesture is not lost to Soul though. He sighs at its implied meaning.

"Yeah. Sure thing, Kid."


	15. Her: 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Her: 8**

Maka peddles home at a speedy pace. There's no real reason to go fast, as Soul will beat her no matter what. But, even though she knows that, even though she knows she can't beat a motor vehicle with her two feet, she still peddles harder than ever before. Is it because she doesn't want to keep Soul waiting?

No, it's because Soul is waiting. He's waiting for her. Just the thought makes her heart race as fast as her bicycle passes each house. She's never had someone waiting to just see her, especially at her own home. It's exciting. It's refreshing. And it makes Maka happy.

The joy vanishes though, when Maka pulls up to her driveway. There are two people already standing in it. One is young, despite is stark white hair, and is standing next to a familiar motorcycle. The other is a man who looks younger than he is, with blood red hair and a scowl on his face.

"Papa," she half whispers, the horror of the situation knocking the wind right out of her sails. What is he doing home at this time? He usually works until at least six.

It's Soul and her father standing in the driveway. Soul and her father, Spirit Albarn. They are both there, in front of her house. Communicating with each other. On non-too-friendly terms. In fact, her father seems to be raging at Soul. The later looks ready to bite the elder's head off, if Soul's face is anything to go by.

She jumps off her bike, shoves it into the grass, and races up to intervene between the two males. "Soul. Papa." She makes her way to them, but isn't quite sure what is really going on. Although, she has an educated guess, knowing her father.

"Maka," Spirit calls back. "Angel, it's not safe here. Papa is trying to get rid of this suspicious guy. Just wait there."

"Maka," Soul responds in turn. His voice sounds as reserved as he looks. "Tell him I'm not trespassing, will you?"

"Why the hell else would you be here, you brat?" Shouts the elder man. He leans forward in an attempt to look threatening. "I want you out of my driveway. A worthless punk like you has no business here."

"Papa," Maka barks. "Stop insulting my friend. I invited him here. This is Soul." The other deflates at her explanation. "And besides that, what are you doing home so early in the day, anyway?"

At her accusing tone, the man blubbers, "Ah, no, Papa came home early so he could take Maka out for a nice dinner tonight."

He's done it a few times before, Maka remembers. Like for birthdays, or when he's feeling especially guilty. She knows it can't be the former, so she tries to think of something her father could have done recently. A few drunken endeavors come to mind, but nothing extremely different from his usual stupidity.

The skepticism must show on her face, because her father begins to further explain the many highlights he has planed for the evening. She half listens, half resists rolling her eyes at his dramatics. She risks a glance in Soul's direction, a bit afraid to find him long gone from this insanity. Strangely, he's still here. He's looking at her father like the man has three heads, but otherwise shows no sign of leaving his current spot in the driveway. It's comforting, Maka discovers, because he's proving to be more than just talk. Soul's not backing down from his previous words.

Maka realizes too late that her father has stopped blabbering and is now looking pissed. He gives them both an accusing glance. "And, just who is this… guy, to you, Angel?" He tries to sound light, but the malice is there in his tone. "He looks like the kind of guy Black*Star would hang out with."

She barely restrains an eye roll. "Actually, they're best friends, Papa."

"Well, I don't like him," the elder declares. "He just shows up here, unannounced, and sits in our driveway like a stalker." He latches onto Maka's shoulders and gives her a pleading look. "Papa doesn't want you hanging around this boy. He's no good, Angel. Papa can tell. And if he's a friend of Black*Stars, then you know he's nothing but trouble. Besides," wails Spirit, "he's just going to hurt you. You know how boys that age are; they only want one thing and they—"

"What?" Soul growls; his shark teeth glisten as he glares at the accuser. "I would never do that to Maka. Not in a million years."

"Are you saying my Maka is unattractive?" Spirit shouts back.

"What? No! Maka's beautiful and crazy smart, and she's got the best damn legs—"

"I knew it; you are just after sex. A perverted brat like you, as if I'd let you anywhere near my Maka."

"The hell, old man? Stop putting words in my mouth! It told you, I'm not interested in Maka like that at all."

"So you do think she's ugly."

"Damn it, old man. I told you, she's fucking gorgeous—"

"Perverted brat, stay away from my daughter! I forbid you from being anywhere near her. Get off my property, and don't you dare come back ever again."

"What, old man? What makes you think you can pick out her friends?"

"I'm her father—"

"Well, I'm still her friend—"

"Maka Chop!" Maka shrieks. She proceeds to beat both of the males over the head with her history textbook. It's at least seven hundred pages thick. "Enough. You both need to just shut up."

"Maka," Soul gasps from the ground in pain.

"Angel," Spirit whimpers in agony on the concrete.

Maka huffs, willing her anger into a manageable state. "Papa, Soul is a good guy. Unlike you, he has other thing on his mind besides using women." Her voice is cold, she knows, but she can't stop.

"But Maka," her father blubbers. "He's a college brat, right? You know they're type."

Maka resists bashing her own father's face in. "He's a lot better than you. Soul's never once lied to me or broken a promise he's made. In fact, he…He's saved my life!" She screams out.

Her father looks stunned, but Maka can feel the adrenaline rush through her. She can't stop now. This train is moving and the honest, horrible reality is spilling from her lips. This is going to end in a fiery disaster, but gods help her, she will tell him everything before she runs off the tracks.

"Do you know how we met?" Maka asks her floundering father. "He saved me from taking my own life. I tried to kill myself because of the stupid shit you've put me through growing up. I just couldn't take anymore! You cheated on Mama for so long, and then she finally leaves your sorry ass but she abandons me too. And you don't even learn your lesson. Instead, you keeping fucking everything with two legs and breasts. How dare you call Soul a pervert. You don't even know him. He's done nothing but been nice and supportive to me, despite the fact that I'm probably mentally unstable and socially inept, thanks to your great parenting skills. Did you know I have trust issues? That I can't get near men without thinking they're disgusting perverts like you? And I don't even know how to talk to strangers without wanting to throw up or punch them. I can't trust anyone too easily because I'm terrified someone will lie to me or hurt me or use me. I don't even know if I could ever be intimate with someone, I'm so scared. I mean, I can't even trust my own father at this point. Do you know how messed up that is?

"And now, I've realized that I just shouted all of my insecurities out loud like a mad woman on a Monday afternoon." She pauses her rant here as the embarrassment and frustration hit her at full force. Is her face red? For the love of Death, it feels like her whole head is on fire. She doesn't know what to do.

She panics a glance at her father. He's frozen in shock at her words. His face is blank and paler than a ghost. His arms dangle loosely at his sides. He's staring past her, lost.

Maka risks another glance at Soul, who also looks shocked but much more together. His face is hard set as he watches her father's reaction. He fists are clenched tight. He looks like he's angry, but Maka doesn't know why. Why would Soul be mad in this situation? He's the one who wanted a confession. If anything, Maka should be the one who's angry.

However, she's not. In the moment, she had felt rage, but now, with all of her secrets out, Maka feels weak. She feels vulnerable. She's never felt so exposed and raw, and she's terrified because anything could happen. She doesn't know what her father will say, or do, or even think of her admissions. Maka doesn't know what Spirit's reactions will be.

And she doesn't want to know.

She races towards Soul's bike, grabbing Soul's sleeve on her way. He sputters in shock at her jerky movements, but she ignores him in favor of escaping. She had promised herself that she wouldn't run away from her problems anymore. However, she just confessed to her father about her suicide attempt. That seemed like more than enough for today. She can't be this brave all the time. Confessing her insecurities should be enough.

At least, that's what Maka tells herself as she proceeds to beg Soul without words to start his bike. He protests verbally, but does straddle his bike at her demands. She jumps on behind him without hesitation. It's only when she puts the helmet on her head, does she realize she's mumbling continuously like the freak she is.

Fantastic. She's officially lost all the screws holding her together. Thank goodness for the visor. Thank goodness for the loud motorcycle. Thank goodness for Soul's strong back.

She doesn't ask him where they're going. Soul doesn't ask where she wants to go. She doesn't care either way. She just wants to get away from her home, away from that man she calls her father. Maka doesn't know how she's going to face him anymore. She doesn't know what's broken and what's not. Did she go too far? She didn't mean to hurt him; at least, not like that. She didn't want to yell at him. She didn't want to make him feel like this is all his fault somehow, because it's not. Mama's just as much to blame for the parenting problems. And Maka's at fault too for letting it get this bad.

The only thing that is clear right now is Soul's back, which she clings to in the rush of the wind and her feelings. It's all she's got, and it's comforting. Soul's here. Soul's always been here. And that's all she needs right now.


	16. Him: 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Him: 8**

He can feel her panic through the contact. Her nerves, her fear, her uncertainty, they are all palpable to Soul. And it's driving him insane. His own inner-turmoil is being fed by her chaotic feelings and he cannot stop the jittery movements in his hands and legs. Thank Death for the rumbling of his motorcycle.

Soul decides that it would be best to take Maka to his place. There's a logical reason for it, of course. Her privacy is key. That's all he can think about. Soul doesn't want to bring Maka to a place where others can see her, because then she would have to act like everything is fine. But it's not fine; nothing is "fine." Maka has admitted some of her deepest fears and insecurities in a fit of embarrassed rage, and now he's left with the girl clinging to his back. He isn't even sure if she's crying or not. Again, the rumble of his motorcycle covers everything that needs to hide.

He supposes that things are starting to add up at this point. Her hesitant looks and rejecting motions are now explainable. She has trust issues. Maka's afraid of being betrayed. That makes so much sense, now that Soul takes the time to think about it. Why hadn't he realized it sooner? Well, he's never been the most observant type. He really should work on that.

Soul parks in his usual spot. They both climb of the motorcycle and Maka follows him to the apartment complex, wordless and head down. He doesn't say anything either as he guide her up the stairs and to his door. He fumbles with the keys a bit though. Once the right one of four is found, he manages to unlock the door. Maka remains silent behind him the whole time.

The moment his door opens, Soul remembers he lives alone, and thus his stuff is everywhere. Clothes, food, and trash lay about his tiny living room. Soul takes a moment to feel embarrassed, then tries to think of a way to apologizes for the mess.

But Maka just pushes past him and into the room. She treks through the mess of clothes and collapses onto his couch in mere seconds. She moved like she fucking owns the place. Like she's done it a million times before. Like she doesn't give a damn as long as she's comfortable. Like being in the chaos of his home is the most natural thing in the world for Maka to do. Soul is both amazed and pleased.

He watches her curl into herself a ball at one end of his couch. Again, Soul worries that she is crying. So, he too trudges over to his couch and sits on the middle cushion. He pauses a moment, wondering if what he wants to do is the right thing to do. He keeps an eye on her, and although she is still for the most part, he can't help but think she wants to cry. But, it seems like Maka is resisting her own tears.

 _Fuck it_ , Soul decides. He can't just do nothing. The risks of her rage are meaningless compared to the small chance he might comfort her.

Soul reaches his left arm out, slinging it around the back of Maka's shoulders. Once secure on her far side, he proceeds to drag her towards him, forcing her to uncurl and lean her side against his own. She freezes the moment he starts. He can feel her shallow breath and tense muscles. She doesn't move against it though, but she still seems uncomfortable with his actions. Soul ignores the worry; instead, he focuses on situating her to lean most of her weight on him. He leans back into the couch once satisfied with the position. He then adjust his left hand to cup the back of her head and it corrals her to rest onto his shoulder.

"It's okay," he hears himself sigh. He doesn't know what could possibly be okay about this situation, but there must be something.

She stiffens more at his words. However then, ever so slowly, she relaxes her body and just lays her side against him. Maka shifts a bit, trying to find a more comfortable spot, then sighs next to his ear.

"Yeah," Maka whispers. Soul can feel her breath against the left side of his neck. Her voice is soft, but not wavering. As usual, Soul finds Maka to be much stronger than he thought.

"Sorry," she adds after a beat. A long silence follows. Soul isn't sure what she's apologizing for. He doesn't particularly care either. None of this is Maka's fault. He doesn't' know how to tell her that though. He isn't sure she would believe him. Plus, he doesn't think she wants a response. But, he does hum back, because he wants her to know that he is listening.

They stay lounging on the couch for some while. Soul must have nodded off at some point, because his alarm catches him by surprise. It's his signal that he needs to eat before work in less than two hours. He wonders if Maka had dozed off too, as she jumps a little against him at the sudden noise. She turns a bit against his side, pulling away just enough to look at his phone as he shuts off the reminder.

"I need to eat before work," he explains like she hadn't just seen his alarm. She shifts a moment, then pulls herself away completely. Maka adjusts to sit on the cushion she sat on before but avoids eye contact with him. Soul wants to ask what happens next, if she's going home or not. Instead, he asks if she is hungry.

"A little," Maka replies. She continues to not look at him.

"I have some left over pizza." He moves to stand, and Maka moves fast to the far side of the couch, far away from him. He tries not to get caught up in her fluttering movements. She's uncomfortable, Soul knows, for many reasons. He refuses to call her out on any of them. He has already pushed her enough as it is. "You like Italian, Pigtails?"

She scrunches her eyebrows at the question, until understanding stretches across her face. Soul wonders how she can be such an open book about her emotions sometimes, yet a complete mystery at any other moment she chose. She smiles. "I don't mind Italian at all; sounds great actually.

He chuckles lightly, and a small part inside of him twitches. He doesn't remember ever mentioning it to her, but Soul can't help but think of his Italian heritage at her comment. And, when he thinks like that, his thoughts get a little dirty. And he _knows_ Maka did not mean it like that at all. If she knew that he is taking it that way though, she'd break his skull right through.

"Soul?"

He blinks, realizes he's been laughing awkwardly for a solid minute, and then feels his face heat. Fuck, is he blushing? "Right, uh, sorry. I'll heat some up." And he escapes to the kitchen. Real smooth like. Real cool. _Fuck_.

They eat in relative silence. Soul's mind is too high stung to worry about anything like manners. And Maka isn't making any attempts either. Instead, he focuses on what her game plan might be.

He doesn't ask though. He leaves with her still in his apartment as he heads towards his security job. Soul won't be back until after three in the morning. He isn't sure if Maka will still be there.

With the job being as lonesome as it is, Soul is able to wonder around the office building while his thoughts are elsewhere. He climbs up and down stairs while thinking about the events earlier that day. He thinks about meeting Maka's father. The man is so different from what he had been imagining. For one, he looked incredibly young. And he obviously cares very much for his daughter. Soul wonders about how the man could be so protective, yet also overbearing and clueless to his own daughter's feelings. They've obviously grown apart from each other, and years and years of unspoken feelings now divide them. Soul wonders how long it would take to fix the distance between a daughter and her father. He's never been good with family relations.

Soul doesn't realize it, but he spends the whole night thinking about her. He thinks about Maka's fears and what they really mean. He remembers all the words she said, and all the little things that went unsaid. He thinks about how she has acted around him, Black*Star and even Kid. Any contact she had with them had been limited, and the familiarity between each person factored in too. She was nervous around Soul and Kid, her uneasiness obvious in her behaviors. Black*Star, being the childhood friend, she would yell at and argue with. And he has no qualms with getting in her face too or latching onto her for brief moments. But, that may just be because he's Black*Star, and Maka has no choice but to let him get away with some of it.

Soul drives back after his shift change at three. He's still out of it, still thinking too much. He parks and wanders up to his apartment. The door is locked, and the lights inside are off. However, when he drifts into the living room, Soul spots a bundle of blonde on his couch. He stares at her. He watches her soft movement as she breathes under the worn blanket wrapped around her.

Soul sighs.

He goes to his room first. There, Soul changes into some old shorts and a worn-out cotton tee. He then glances around his room. The place is a sty at best. He's not looking forward to fixing any of it. However, soon enough dirty clothes are swept to one pile in the far corner. His blankets are sorted to lay properly on his bed. Soul also puts away any books and magazines that really shouldn't have been out in the first place. Then, finally, he does a final sweep of room. It's still a mess.

"Well," he sighs one last time into to the night. "That's as good as it's going to get."

Soul moves back to the living room and steps in front of the couch. He crouches down for a moment and begins to nudge Maka's makeshift bedding around. When he stands again, there is a warm, petite female in his arms. She's not exactly light, but he doesn't find her heavy either. If he was ever forced to do it, Soul finds that he could really carry Maka without much complaint.

His movement is light down the hall. It's almost four in the morning that Tuesday. And Soul refuses to wake Maka. If last week taught him anything, it's that they both need to sleep at this time. The pace he takes is slow, but he does make it back to his room without incident. She doesn't even shift in his arms once. Soul gets her into bed with little effort too. She moves a bit then, seeming to try to settle in, and he makes sure her movements are not going to push the comforter off her. When she's finally more comfortable, he backs up.

Maka sighs in the darkness, and it's like a release of Soul's own tension in his shoulders. He backs out of his own room and turns to go back the way he came. Along the way, he grabs the blanket Maka had been using before off the ground.

Soul settles into his old couch while wrapping himself in the still warm blanket. The couch is more comfortable that night than he remembers it ever being, and a small amount of satisfaction fills his chest with warmth. He yawns, shifts his face more into the pillow already there.

Soul falls into a dreamless sleep. The foreign scent of lavender and vanilla soothes him completely.


	17. Her: 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Her: 9**

The first thing Maka is aware of that morning is that she is warm. And so comfortable. She doesn't remember falling asleep that way. However, she won't argue against the sensations, despite the fact that the light from her window is hitting her right in the face. That's a bit unusual. She remembers through the sleeping haze that her bed was purposefully placed in her room to prevent that from happening in the mornings.

The second thing Maka is aware of is that her bed smells… weird. It's not a bad scent. It is a bit musky, but sharp and deep and foreign. However, it is also comforting and reminds her of the color burgundy and sharks. For some reason. _How strange_ , her mind murmurs in bewilderment, but she just giggles in her sleepy daze.

The third and final thought Maka has that Tuesday morning it that _this is not her bed_.

After that, there isn't much thinking from her at all.

She springs to sit up on the bed, the motion forcing blankets to crumble around her waist. Her panic causes the bed sheets to tangle among her legs. She kicks aggressively, claws at the cloth, until she can see her now free appendages. Her mind barely registers that she's still fully dressed, minus a missing sock. She tries the climb out of the bed, but hits her knee on an unfamiliar bedside table. It makes a loud _thunk_ noise. Maka resists crying out. She tumbles to the floor, catching herself on her hands so her face doesn't get intimate with the wood flooring. This too makes a strong _smack_ noise though.

She glances around the room with a nervous twitch. There doesn't appear to be anyone else in there with her. That's good, for the most part. This place is, however, a boy's room. That's terrible, on all parts. Although, it seems rather plain. There are no posters on the wall, no real decorations of any kind. The only thing that leads her to think that this is the bedroom of a male is the little hints about it. It's messy, for one thing. Although that doesn't mean that it is directly a boy's room, but the clothes cluttered to the far corner are not very feminine. There are books around the desk, none are on it though. She can't tell for sure from beside the bed, but they look like a mix of school books and mechanical manuals. Also, there is a familiar leather coat hanging off the desk chair. Maka isn't sure what she knows it from.

Maka is about to go take a closer look, when the door to the room swings open.

She blinks at the new person. He blinks back. He still looks half asleep, as his hair is rumpled and eyes struggling to keep open. He looks around the room once and then moves to her side. Maka's frozen, her rumpled mind trying to get up to speed with her situation.

"You okay." Soul mumbles out, and she knows it should be a question. Yet, his exhausted state takes any inquisitive infliction out of his voice. She doesn't know what to say, how to respond. Soul doesn't seem to notice. Or maybe he just can't find the energy to care. Instead of waiting for an answer, he proceeds to just pick her up in his arms. She squeaks, but resists thrashing because Soul obviously isn't in his right mind. He places her back on the bed as fast as he had picked her up. He looks at her for a moment, eyes still drooping dangerously. Maka watches right back, mind scrambling to understand how she got in his bed and what in the world he wants from her. He tilts his head the longer they stare at each other. "Maka?" He asks, seeming to be just as lost as she feels.

"Soul?" She wets her lips.

He blinks a few times, and each time his burgundy eyes are able to open just a little wider. As he does this, he continues to stare at her. Maka stares back. The longer they look, the more Soul seems to come to an understanding. He mumbles her name again, this time with less confusion. When he is awake enough to look at her properly, Soul frowns. "I heard a noise. Are you okay?"

Maka nods, eyes still trapped by his own. "Yeah, I hit my knee." She can't look away. His gaze is far too warm and unguarded. "What's going on?"

Soul frowns again. "I don't know. I'm asking you." He moves to grab her leg, and Maka freezes as his fingertips brush her skin. He stares at her leg. "That was a loud hit. You sure you're okay?" He doesn't seem to care that she's uncomfortable with his stare and touch; all of Soul's focus is on her knee.

Maka forces herself to relax. There's no reason to be nervous. This is Soul: the caring dork who is too lazy to do more than shrug; the guy who thinks helmets make him look less cool but isn't against acting like a child in public. The guy who saved her life and never once backed down after. The guy who listened to her scream at her own father and then hugged her like she wasn't one massive freak show.

This is Soul: the best thing to ever happen to Maka. The one guy she doesn't have to worry about.

She resolves herself to get over her nerves and this results in her just letting Soul do whatever it is he's doing. Which seems to be poking her knee. She watches him prod at various points, putting pressure along the joint and bone. It doesn't hurt. She decides to tell him so.

He doesn't believe her. "I heard that from the living room. It's got to hurt."

"Well, maybe you just heard me falling out of the bed. I caught myself before my face it the floor though."

He makes a disgruntled face, something akin to confusion and disgust, before sighing. "Well, that's great, I suppose. How did you even fall out of my bed?"

"How did I even get in your bed?" She counters. She isn't sure if she's angered by this situation or just embarrassed to be involved in it at all.

Soul frowns some more at her accusing tone. "I carried you," he says like she's missing a few screws. Which may be possible, considering how great her morning has been so far. "No way was I going to make you sleep on my couch. That's not what cool guys do."

"Don't be stupid. What makes you think I'm okay with stealing your bed?"

"Ah, but you didn't steal it; I gave it to you."

She frowns this time. She isn't sure why she's arguing about this. What's done is done. And Soul seems to have shifted from confused about her antics to just being humored by them. But, this doesn't mean Maka can just let it go. She feels pretty bad for sleeping in his bed, because that means he slept on the couch. And, she woke him up after a late shift as well. It's obvious that, despite being more alert, Soul still needs more sleep. What time is it anyway?

She does a quick glance for her cell, but finds no trace of the device. She scowls to herself, thinking it must be in the living room still. Well, that's fine. Maka looks back at Soul, "Well, thank you, I guess. And, sorry. You should go back to sleep."

Soul blinks. "Mm—no, don't worry about it. As long as you're okay…" He scratches the back of his head, ruffling the wild white mass atop it more. "Sleep does sound good though."

Maka moves off the bed. "Go ahead, then." She gestures to his mass of blankets, which she's turned into some sort of war zone, but he just shakes his head. She frowns back. "Why not?"

"I told you, Pigtails: you get the bed."

Maka resists rolling her eyes. "I'm getting up, Soul. I don't need the bed." She makes a show of it by walking towards the door, but stops short at the threshold.

Soul looks at her. She raises an eyebrow back. He hums a moment, eyes tracing something above her left shoulder in the distance. He then nods to himself. "Yeah, okay. Back to bed then." But instead of climbing into the bed, Soul turns and leaves the room. Maka flounders a moment, yet chases after him in slight indignation.

She follows him to the living room, and watches him collapse back onto the couch. He yawns, pulls his blanket from the floor, and makes a show of cuddling into the cushions. His eyes are squeezed shut and he forces an over the top yawn out of his mouth. She huffs at his antics. His stupid grin is visible around the edges of the blanket.

Idiot.

Choosing to show him she knows better, Maka makes her own show of stomping around the room in a thin-veiled attempt to find her cellphone. She spots her phone instantly, grabs it from the coffee table, and moves to the kitchen. All while being as loud as possible about it. That'll show the moron.

She finds the bread and decides to make toast. Then she realizes he doesn't have a toaster. Maka decides some peanut butter and bread will have to be her substitute. While munching though, she glances at her phone. There are twenty or so missed calls from her father. And a text from Kid about the decorations issue. The digital clock says it's still plenty early in the morning, which means she can probably make it to school on the city public bus system. Which is great. She doesn't want to go home yet.

Maka goes through a semi-normal morning routine in a non-normal home. It consists of freshening herself up for the most part. Her hair is a weird mess from sleeping in pigtails. She's surprised Soul didn't comment on it, but maybe he's just too tired to tease. She then got her poor worn-out backpack together, after finding it thrown in the entry way. She doesn't remember doing such a thing, but chooses not to dwell on that thought. As a final summation—because she really needed to do something with herself, she fixes Soul's bedspread from her earlier freak-out. Doing so helps her find that missing sock.

Maka is just about done when she decides that she really is pretty pathetic. Her reliance on Soul has turned from benefiting to necessary to desperation. Can she really do nothing on her own? Maka feels so weak, although Soul has shown no issues with being her crutch. She really doesn't deserve that kind of gentleness.

Maka grabs an extra blanket from Soul's bed and brings it to the living room. As expected, the other is out cold on the couch and that just adds to Maka's troubled thoughts. She really wishes he had just taken the bed. But, she makes due and covers Soul with the extra blanket, tucking it in and adjusting the pillows for better comfort.

She contemplates leaving a note, but finds that her time is running out. She needs to go. Maka grabs her bag, counts her change, and leaves Soul's apartment in a quiet rush.

She'll just have to text him later.


	18. Him: 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Him: 9**

Soul glares at his phone. He can't be bothered to care that it's obvious. Or disturbing to others. Or that he is doing it in the middle of his lecture class. This is because he doesn't care. Fuck classes. Fuck his professors. Soul is pissed. And he can't be blamed for any of it.

It's Maka's fault. Surprise surprise. Never would have seen that one coming. But it is her fault and he's mad at her. No, mad does not even cover it. The range of emotions he is experiencing at this moment are all too intense for a word like "mad," and he is justified for feeling every single one of them.

She had left him this morning. Sometime after he fell asleep again. And she didn't leave a note or message or anything telling him where she went or what she'll do. And he's worried that something bad has happened to her. And mad at her for doing things on her own. And upset that she would do this on her own. And frustrated that she will not answer her phone. But mostly mad; very viciously mad.

Soul stares at the message box on his cell phone. He's sent her at least five messages since waking up. Normally, he would think this too clingy or desperate, but Death help him, he couldn't help it. Maka has run off and now she won't respond to any messages he's sent and… And… She could be dead. She could be at the bottom of a river bed. Her emerald eyes dulled and empty. Her dirty blond hair drenched and dirtied by mud. Maka could be dead right now and Soul has no way of knowing for sure.

Unless she fucking answers her phone.

"Soul? Hey, Soul."

He doesn't even look up. "Not now."

The other does a dramatic gasp of injury and scowls. "The fuck is you're problem? How dare you talk to your god like that?"

Soul risks a quick glance at Black*Star, but goes back to his phone in seconds. "It's Maka."

Looking back on it, Soul may later regret getting Black*Star involved. For one thing, he lacks subtly. The guy has blue hair, for Death's sake. For another, Black*Star has a tendency to put 110% into everything he does. He never does anything half-assed; even things he doesn't like get done with robust, but the whining is always ten times worse too. He's got a stubborn head and a skull thicker than anything Soul's ever seen. Asking for his help is the same as asking for a tsunami to flood one house: it works but you'll end up with an entire city half under water.

But, right now, that's exactly what Soul wants.

"Maka?" Black*Star echoes. He frowns. "What's up with Maka?" There is a slight strain in his voice.

"She had another fight with her old man. Last night." Soul sighs and looks at his feet. "She ran off to my place but was gone when I woke up this morning." He doesn't add anything about what the fight was about, or what they did at his home. He knows that Maka hates her weaknesses, and no matter how mad he is at her, he won't betray that trust. Plus, it's nice to be the one she does show that weakness to, even if it's just a little. It might be conceited, but he wants to remain the only one who knows that side of her.

Black*Star frowns harder. "What?" His voice is chilling and calm. Just what you would expect before a storm. "What kind of fight? Where did she go?" He gives Soul a harsh look. "And why the hell am I just now hearing about this? I'm getting sick and tired of being left out of the loop here."

Soul prickles to the defensive. "Oh yeah, because the first thing I think of when Maka is upset is your sorry ass. Cut me some slack, I was too busy trying to comfort her."

"Well you did a shitty job, huh? Since she ran off from you." Ouch, low blow. But Black*Star is pissed, and he's not afraid to throw all the punches he can. Soul knows that much, and there isn't much to be done about it, because Black*Star is right. Soul is terrible at this comfort and support stuff, and he doesn't know how to fix it. He wants to help Maka, really, but so far it's shown that she can easily just ditch him when she wants to. She doesn't need him.

Black*Star huffs some more, but soon seems to notice that Soul isn't trying to refute his complaints. The loud teen settles down enough to just frown, although Soul can't tell if Black*Star is mad at him personally or just the shitty situation they're in. The louder of the two huffs, "Well, maybe it's not all your fault. Maka's just the stubborn, independent type. She's always been the kind of girl to try and fix things on her own. It's fucking annoying, for sure."

Soul snorts and decides to take Black*Star's own version of a peace offering. "It's not like you're much better. Pretty sure you're more stubborn than her."

"Ha! As if," Black*Star retorts. "I'm a god. I don't need the help of anyone. Maka is just a mortal, even if she won't admit it. She needs the help of a god like me."

Soul laughs along, but there is a stinging sensation in his chest. He doubts Black*Star means it that way, but Soul can't help but think that maybe Maka would have been better off relying on her childhood friend over him. Black*Star obviously understands Maka way better than he does, and the guy isn't afraid to ask the tough questions either. Maybe that's what Maka needs: someone loud and unrelenting. Maybe Soul isn't the right kind of support for her. Just the idea of it makes him upset though.

"So," Black*Star continues after the pause. He gives Soul a pointed look. Soul blinks and stares at his friend. The other gestures towards his cell phone. Soul looks at it too. Black*Star groans in frustration. "What happened? Can you get ahold of her?"

Oh. "No," Soul replies with a frown. "She's been ignoring me all day." He thought about how she's probably in class, but even then there's passing periods and lunch times when she could have checked. Even a simple "not now" could have worked.

Black*Star scowls. "Great. I could text her too, but I doubt she'd respond." He sighs and seems to think a moment. Which is actually quite long for Black*Star. "Right, then there's only one thing to do," he declares with a grin. "Let's go see her."

Soul thinks about it a minute, but Black*Star just keeps grinning like a mad man. That grin is pretty convincing. Plus, sitting and worrying about her isn't helping at all. Soul needs to find Maka; he needs to make sure that everything is okay. Finding her would be the most productive way. "Okay," he agrees.

The two friends part after agreeing to meet up again at Maka's school. It's a ten minute drive on his Harley, and Soul spends every second trying to plan out what to do. He thinks about what he wants to say when he finds her. Will he yell at her? Complain to her? Probably not. Mostly because those tactics will just close her off from him more, and make her feel bad. Soul doesn't want to blame Maka. He still doesn't think anything is her fault. But he is frustrated and mad at her, so an apology would be nice. He just needs to figure out how to get that sort of response out of her. But, that probably won't happen since Black*Star's coming along. Damn.

They arrive at the school just as it's getting out. Soul tries to convince Black*Star to wait outside, but the other insists that they go hunt Maka down. "It's fine. I mean, I used to go here too. They know me."

"Somehow, I don't think that's going to help us." But Soul follows him in anyway.

They wonder the halls, looking for Maka but catching the attention of just about everyone else. Girls giggle and wave at him as Black*Star struts down the corridors like he owns the whole building. They pass many classrooms, which Black*Star looks into while Soul glances around the locker areas. So far nothing. Soul really wishes his gut would calm down.

"Hey you two," A throaty voice calls out. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

Soul turns to see a teacher staring at them. His skin is dark and muscled; his hair is cornrowed and held back with a headband. Although the comment had been brash, the man's face is humored and fond looking. He stands slack at the other end of the hall, presumably just leaving a classroom. He smirks at the two boys as he moves towards them. "I don't believe you two attend this school. At least, not anymore."

"You trying to say I'm not welcome?" Black*Star challenges back. There is a grin on his face too.

"Nah, don't be silly. I'm fond of all my students: current and past alike. That's just the kind of man I am." He smiles at Black*Star before turning to Soul. "Name's Sid Barrett, head of the science department here. Who might you be?"

"Soul Eater," Soul replies with a cool grin of his own. He distinctly remembers Black*Star before mentioning a Sid as his guardian of sorts, and Maka had said a few words about him as well. The man seems pretty chill, and he can already tell that Sid would be a great teacher to have. "Nice to meet you."

"Soul Eater?" There's some humor in Sid's voice. "So your Black*Star's friend. I'm sorry to hear that." They share a firm hand shake.

Soul snickers as Black*Star snorts in outrage. "Whatcha' mean by that? He's lucky to be my lackey. Anyone would kill to be friends with a god."

Sid laughs back in good nature. "Yeah, I'm sure Maka would agree to that too."

Soul perks up at the mention of her name, but Black*Star beats him to the punch. "Speaking of my other follower, she's been avoiding me. Have you seen her?"

Sid hums to himself and nods his head. "Sure; she's in my AP chemistry class. But she just left. Girl's the student body president, you know? She'll run herself ragged working so hard." He shrugs. "But, you know Maka, once she's started something she won't stop until it's done." Black*Star snorts in agreement, but Sid just gives them both a critical eye. "Keep an eye on her, okay? She's been acting strange for a while now. The girl is taking on too much work and she won't talk about it when I ask. I refuse to ignore my students when they're troubled; that's just not the kind of teacher I am."

Black*Star's face has become far more serious and he nods in agreement to Sid's request. Soul does the same. "Count on it," he assures the teacher.

Sid grins, which lightens the mood considerably. He then directs the two to the student council room. "Maka should be there working on the graduation ceremony."

"Thanks," both boys call as the race down the hall. Soul can feel some eagerness shifting in his blood. Maka had come to school, which is great. He's really glad about that. But that doesn't explain why she's ignored him all day. Not even when she's been so busy has she flat out ignored his text messages. He isn't sure what he'll say when he gets to the council room. Although he had spent time preparing, it doesn't seem to matter at this point. He wants an apology sure, but the conversation with Sid makes him wonder just how Maka is really doing. Teachers always seem to notice the little details, after all, and this one even asked his loud-mouth adopted son to "keep an eye on her." Soul doesn't know how that's going to work out. Death knows Black*Star is never subtle.


	19. Her: 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Her: 10**

Maka isn't really sure what is going on. One second she's working on the final plans for the decorations of her graduation; the next second she's being yelled at be two college boys, and the last second she's thrown into a car. What's worse, it's Black*Star's car, so it's messy and broken and terrifying. Soul is riding on his bike, following them back to Maka's home. She had tried to escape to the motorcycle, but Black*Star had caught her.

"What is with all this trash?" Kid voices next to her from the back seat, "Have you even heard of the word 'cleanliness?'" Yet, despite the firm tone of disgust in his voice, Kid's face is a mix between pale and slightly green. Maka worries he may break into hives as he scratches at his arms.

"Shut up, will you?" Black*Star yells form his position at the wheel. "I have a system."

"It's disgusting. You really should come up with a better one."

"Dude, what is your problem?"

"Currently: this rancid excuse for a mode of transportation."

"Just shut up," Black*Star yells in indignation. He eyes them both from the rearview mirror. "Maka, why did we have to bring the emo pansy along?"

"First of all," Kid begins before Maka can even open her mouth. "I am not an 'emo pansy,' as you so eloquently put it. My choice in attire and desire for clean, symmetrical surroundings is none of your concern nor does it deserve your criticism. Second of all, Maka is the student body president of Death Academy, the school founded by my ancestors over a hundred years ago. As her vice president, it is my sworn duty to assist her with any concerns or glitches in running the school. As far as I'm concerned, you and Soul are both. In addition, she is my dear friend, and there is no way I will just stand by and let two college hooligans kidnap her. It is against my oath as a gentleman and my promise as her friend."

Black*Star huffs from the front seat about not being a hooligan, but Maka ignores it. She never realized that Death the Kid felt this way about her. She didn't even know he considered them to be friends—at least, not close enough friends to jump into a random car together. She should really give him more credit. Why is she so a bad at all this?

"I'm sorry." Maka sighs, because it's all she can think to say. Not that saying it is going to fix anything, or garter any forgiveness.

"What for?" Kid replies, his tone bewildered but unwavering. "I just explained: it's my choice to be here. As if I could allow you to go alone when those were clearly enraged."

Maka eyes him from her spot on the left side. She's a bit unsure about just blowing it all over like this, but a small smile works over her face anyway. She's grateful, not matter what, for Kid's kindness. Black*Star, as per usual, ruins it.

"Yeah well, a simple sorry isn't going to cut it for me." He glares through the mirror at her, and she has enough spite to hold his gaze. "You have another fight with your old man, disappear twice, and you didn't bother to tell me. Plus, you had Soul in a near frenzy all day, and I had to deal with his shitty attitude."

"I told you," Maka grits out. "My phone died. I didn't get to charge it last night, so of course the battery would run out."

"Then you should have borrowed a phone or something. I know you have at least my number memorized."

True, but not by her own choice. Before Maka can argue though, the car pulls to a stop. There parked on the edge of Maka's driveway. The garage door is open, revealing her father's car parked in its place. Not a good sign. He shouldn't be home. However, there are also two other cars in the space: one she recognizes, and one she does not.

They get out, and Soul pulls his bike up in whatever space is there. Maka wonders over to the familiar car, peaking through the windows to see the mess of cigarette packages and science equipment. She can't help but smile fondly at them, despite all the less appealing memories associated with each object.

Black*Star glances into the car as well and groans. "Death help us; not him." Soul, upon hearing his friend's groan, wonders over the car and peers inside as well. The recognition is his own groan.

"What the hell. Why is he even here?"

Maka snickers. She does understand their reluctance though. She glances at the other car, which is slick and new looking. The windows are tinted so dark she doubts she would be able to see inside. Not that she would look into a stranger's car anyway.

"Maka," Soul calls. "Let's go in, okay? You have to talk to him."

Maka scowls at the concrete steps to her doorway, but nods all the same. She knows that avoidance will solve nothing, and she knows that running away is not an option. They have to talk. Even if it's all one sided. Plus, she has support from her friends: the last three people she would have ever expected it from.

When she goes to the door, she decides to nock. While a little strange to do at her own house, she can't help but think it appropriate. For one thing, there are guests over who no doubt have some clue as to her father's state of mind. For another, she is not sure if her arrival is anticipated or not. She might as well make herself known, not just sneak in.

The one who answers the door is just who she expected. He opens it with slight gusto the moment her fist first makes contact, and a puff of smoke filters out of his smirking lips. The noxious gas goes just above head. It's hard to tell with the way the light hits his glasses, but Maka is sure that he's analyzing her. No doubt he's looking for a weak spot, a gesture that gives her whole state of being away. Stein always did have a knack for over analyzing and knowing everything. It's part of the reason he's so disliked.

The man in her doorway takes another drag and puffs it out, face moving as though he is looking at who is behind her. "Brought a whole army, did you?" He drawls. The man sighs, although it's clear he's humored by it all. "And all male too. Your father's going to have a fit." Another huff of smoke whips from his grinning lips. "Although, whatever remains of them might be worth examination. I've been needing some new livers and lungs at Death University. They cut my funding again." He sounds bored if anything.

"That's 'cuz you tried to dissect one of the janitors," Black*Star buts in with clear outrage. "You wanted to put a pig liver in him!"

Maka resists smacking her face, and Stein's. "Seriously? Again?"

Stein only grins and adjusts his glasses. "I was only joking. He knew I was joking. The anesthesia and knives were just for laughs. It's the university that can't take a joke." He waves his cigarette around to make a circle trail of smoke. When neither Maka nor Black*Star respond, the doctor shrugs but grins with all this teeth.

There is a long pause before someone else speaks. "Er…Well, yes. I'm sure that if you state your case, the university will restore your funding." Kid says eventually. His voice sounds both concerned and a little anxious. Knowing Kid, he's probably just not able to handle the single stitched scar on the left side of Stein's face.

Stein nods once, twice, then puffs another drag. "You look familiar; must be Death the Kid, correct? Son of Shinigami? You look a lot like him." Although they are questions, Stein's tone suggests little curiosity. "Your whole family is so interesting. There are many stories about your family. Many interesting little tidbits about supposed abilities and skills. What I'd give to cut up a member of the Reaper family." He leans forward, past Maka and right into Kid's face. "I don't suppose you would let me dissect you?"

Kid makes a sputtering noise of discontent. Out of the corner of her eye, Maka can see both Soul and Black*Star take a terrified step back. She sighs. Idiots, all of them.

"That's enough, Stein." Maka intervenes. "Is my father in? I want to speak with him."

Stein pulls back to standing straight. The dull look back on his face. "You know that he is. But you won't like how this conversation will go."

"What do you mean?" Maka asks. When he doesn't do any more than blow smoke out his mouth she huffs and crosses her arms. "You are the worst uncle-godfather I've ever had."

"Perhaps, but since I'm the only uncle or godfather you'll ever have, there isn't much competition." Which is true, so she doesn't bother to confirm it for him.

Stein steps aside and lets the whole group in. She half expected everyone to follow, but it's still a little strange to have the three in her home. Maka wonders into the house entrance, stopping to take off her combat boots next to the bench in the hallway. Soul follows her lead and toes off his tennis shoes. Black*Star nearly kicks his into the wall. Kid is the only one who actually sits on the bench and unties his shoes one at a time.

They all follow her down the hallway: Soul Eater, Black*Star, Death the Kid and Franken Stein. It's got to be the weirdest team she's ever led. There is no doubt in Maka's mind that they all want to see what happens next. Of course, it's all for their own reasons. It's to be expected, and she would be pissed, but right now Maka is just focused on finding her father.

She finds him in the living room, sitting on the couch, head bowed down in some sort of defeat. She pads further into the room, but the others don't follow her. She eyes them as they line up at the entryway. Although it's not that great, she does appreciate their small attempt at personal space. Soul especially, as he's holding Black*Star back with his arm.

Maka approaches the couch with two more steps, but doesn't dare get closer. She can see the slight shake of her father's frame. She hopes he isn't crying. "Papa?"

The man starts at her voice, then whips his head to the side to look at her. A beat passes and they just stare at each other. Maka notes the rings under his eyes and the rumpled look of his clothes. Is that the same shirt from yesterday? She isn't sure. Before she can ask though, the man jumps up and clings to her form. He sobs loudly, choking out broken versions of her name while squeezing her guts like the mad man he is.

Again, Maka struggles not to smack anyone's face.

Yet, as she contemplates the correct action, a new, feminine voice speaks up. "Maka? Thank goodness. We were all so worried about you." The voice is light, dainty and almost too sweet.

Maka looks over the form of her father, and standing there next to the four other men of her life is a woman who she does not recognize at all. She's tall, lean, with light brown hair twisted together at her chest. Her eyes are a bit on the thin side, and with the small flat nose and wide smile, she looks like a snake hiding in the tall grass.

"Oh, my apologies," the woman continues, a rather forced look of concern on her face. "My name is Dr. Medusa Gorgon, a licensed psychiatrist. I'm here to help you through this Maka."


	20. Him: 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Him: 10**

To everyone's credit, this isn't going a lot better than he thought it would. Spirit has stopped crying and clinging to his daughter and is now sniffling on one end of the couch. Black*Star is pacing the room with poorly contained frustration, but is otherwise silent. Professor Stein is smoking by the window, trying to look like he's not studying every person in the room. Kid is busying himself with reorganizing the bookshelf by both size and title, and that actually seems to be taking all of his attention for some reason. And Soul somehow ended up in another chair on one end of the couch: the chair farthest from Maka.

Speaking of Maka, she seems to be frozen in shock on her end of the couch. In the recliner next to her, Dr. Gorgon is smiling and chatting about Death knows what. Soul hasn't been listening all that hard, as he finds her grin a little messed up. He doesn't know what it is, but the woman is just far too pleased with herself for Soul's liking. The atmosphere is terrible right now, and she just seems to be eating it up.

But still. No cursing or blood or Maka Chops. Really, this could be a lot worse.

That's what Soul keeps telling himself anyway. He's still concerned though, so he keeps all his attention on Maka. As far as he's concerned, she's the one who's calling the shots. One signal is all he needs and he'll personally lead their escape out of this mess.

They've been sitting like that for well into five minutes, but to Soul it feels like hours. Eventually, Maka does seem to pull herself together enough to actually look at the psychiatrist. She squints a moment, as if trying to see who she's looking at, then puts on a polite smile. "I'm sorry Dr. Gorgon," Maka interrupts the other, who has yet to stop talking and smiling. "But, I'm still very lost. What exactly are you doing here?"

Dr. Gorgon blinks. "Oh, you can just call me Medusa," she insists with a near purr. When she smiles, her lips drag back far on her face. It's the widest smile Soul has ever seen in his life. "As for what I'm doing here, I have been asked by your father to help you through these struggling times. He tells me that you two had a little spat yesterday. Is that true?"

"A little spat" is hardly the words Soul would use, and he's a little pissed that it's being downplayed so much. That "spat" was a confession of Maka's deepest fears. Who in their right mind treats something like that with so little concern? But Maka just blinks at the other woman and her face puts on a mask of confusion.

"Are you referring to when I yelled at him for insulting Soul, or when I confessed I tried to commit suicide?"

The whole room becomes still. Spirit is grasping his knuckles, Black*Star is frozen in mid step, Professor Stein has his cigarette loose in his fingers, and Kid is holding a book high above his head. Soul isn't breathing. He's pretty sure the act of breathing is forever lost to him, because there is no way Maka just said that like they were discussing the fucking weather. Hell, she's way better at reading the mood than he is, and he's been on the edge of his seat since Medusa walked in the room. How the hell is she so calm? What the hell is going on right now?

Medusa hums, "Mmn, I suppose both. I'm here to talk about all of it, Maka."

"Ah, well, I don't think this is necessary. I don't feel comfortable talking about these things with strangers. Papa and I can just work this out on our own." Maka replies. It's polite and to the point. A very _Maka_ statement. She speaks like she's in complete control of the situation.

Medusa however, looks anything but put off. Instead, she leans back in her seat and rests her chin in a hand. She eyes Maka with confidence and slight mockery. Soul doesn't like it. "But, Maka, your father has already talked to me extensively. He obviously thinks that you do need me. Besides, you would rely on all these ignorant boys over a trained professional, who is female? That seems rather contradictory, doesn't it Maka?"

Maka and Soul both tenses at the comment, her eyes growing wide while his mouth forms into a deep frown. Out of the corner of his eyes, Soul can see Black*Star shaking with contained rage. Soul is quick to figure that, of the four, he is the closest to intervene his best friend, should the other explode. Not that he wants the job. Not that he can handle the job. He's half sure that Black*Star will jump Medusa in the next thirty seconds. Fuck, this is going to get bad.

Professor Stein speaks first though, his voice cutting through the tension. "Perhaps you're right; it is a little strange for Maka's three friends to all be male." He's still leaning against the window though, his body twisted as though he is looking outside. "However, isn't that a sign that her concerns are not as deep as believed? She seems to be able to form close connections with others if given the chance." A long spell of smoke passes from him before Professor Stein actually looks at the woman he's talking to. "If that is the case, then your assistance is not needed in the matter."

"Yes, well, that doesn't change the fact that poor Maka is suicidal. Just because she has male friends does not mean she is suddenly mentally stable enough to go off on her own. She still needs guidance, and seeing how most of the people in her life are of the opposite gender, having a female role model may be just what she needs." Medusa counters, her eyes now trained on the man. Soul isn't sure what to think of the face she is making, but he is troubled by the words, because Maka isn't "unstable." And Soul isn't sure if it's even appropriate to talk about someone else like that, in front of others, especially when that person is also in the room. But the two keep talking anyway, as if they can't let the other have the last word.

This conversation is just getting out of hand. Maka looks like she's in pain just sitting there. Black*Star looks like he wants to punch someone. Professor Stein and Medusa are still having their own crazy contest. The only two who seem to be lost in their own worlds is Spirit and Kid.

What the hell is Soul supposed to do? He isn't sure.

But Maka is. As usual, she defies all his logic and pulls herself together enough to at least look like she's in control. He watches as her vision focuses in and her back straightens. There's a hidden rage in her eyes that he's familiar with and suddenly sitting at the far end of the room is the safest place he can be. When she speaks, it is clear and definite. "I understand the concern you both have for my wellbeing. I am grateful. If you're so insistent on me seeing you, Medusa, I will consider it. But I cannot give a definite agreement right now."

Medusa looks like she's smirking, but the way she holds her hand up makes it hard to tell. "Of course; I completely understand, Maka. There is no rush. I'm sure this is all terribly overwhelming. You just think about it, and come talk to me when you're ready." She holds out a card, which Maka accepts. "This is my number and office. Just call ahead and my assistant, Eruka Furoggu, will gladly get an appointment set up." The woman then stands and moves to the door. "Well, I've done all I can for now. I'll see you next time, Maka."

As she makes her way out of the living room, Spirit jumps from his seat. "Oh, wait, let me show you out." He declares with an unnerving inflection in his voice. Soul resists the urge to shiver, and he spots Maka scowling alone on the couch. No one else moves though as Spirit leads Medusa out of the house.

There is a long, terrible pause. Soul mentally counts the seconds as he keeps his eyes on Maka. She's not moving, staring at the card that crazy psychiatrist left behind. He doesn't know what to do or say about all of this, because no good answer is presenting itself. While he wants Maka to find a real solution to her problems, Soul isn't sure Dr. Medusa Gorgon is the right person for the job. Plus, Maka doesn't even like the woman, and Soul would never encourage her to see someone so crazy she can actually debate with Professor Stein.

It's said whacky professor who speaks first. "I knew you wouldn't like this."

Maka looks up from the card and gazes at the man by the window. "Just who is she?"

Professor Stein pulls a few good drags from his cigarette before smothering it in a dish on the sill. He then removes a new stick from its siblings and lights the cigarette. Soul wonders how many he's gone through since this started. "Medusa Gorgon: a true expert in her field. The woman has performed more studies in her area than Freud and Jung combined. There's been some questions about her practice itself though. Morally speaking, she's more about results than anything else. While she's known for her skills and abilities in manipulating and studying human behavior, she's not really the best for solving it. She'll tell you what's wrong with you, but how she chooses to fix it you may not like." His glance at Maka is rough.

"She's the best…" Maka echoes.

"Scientifically speaking."

"Well I don't like her!" Black*Star yells out. Soul jumps from the sudden outburst, which is far louder than the soft words previously spoken.

"Nor do I," Kid agrees. He's moved from the bookcase to stand closer to the couch. Said bookcase seems to gleam with newfound tidiness. "However, I fear this may be in Maka's best interest; notwithstanding such feelings." He moves to sit by Maka on the couch. Soul itches to stand up and sit on Maka's other side, which would be the armrest, but that would be too obvious. Plus, not a cool way to sit at all.

"Maka," Kid continues. "Despite my reservations, I think that you should consider her help. I don't know the finer details, but whatever distress you are under needs to be handled properly. I don't like this idea of you hurting yourself anymore."

Maka doesn't respond at first. Instead she looks back at the little card still in her hand. She stares at it. She looks back up at each one of the men in the room with her. She shares a heated glare with Black*Star, a sympathetic smile with Kid, and a hopeful stare with Soul. She smiles at him after a moment, then turns her attention to the professor.

"I'm still not a hundred percent," Maka begins, "but I can't stay like this." Professor Stein nods in agreement. "Until I figure everything out, can I stay with you?"

"What?" Another voice cries. Maka's father rushes into the room and collapses at her feet. "Maka-Angel, you don't need to do that, do you?"

Maka pushes the man from clinging to her knee. "Yes, Papa. I think it's for the best. I just need space to figure this all out, and being somewhere else will help clear my head. You don't mind, right Stein?"

Said man shrugs as the father does what Soul can only describe as a defeated whimper. It's a little pathetic to watch.

"Great," Maka says. She smiles, but Soul can tell that it's not her best. "I'll start packing." She moves to stand, then glances at everyone in the room. "Thanks you guys, for being here. Sorry it got so weird." Soul and Kid both stand with her, and all three friends follow her down the main hall. She ushers them to the door with a soft smile. "I'll see you guys later. And don't worry, I'll be sure to charge my phone."


	21. Her: 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Her: 11**

The last time Maka stayed over at Stein's house she was ten years old. Her parents were having one of their more intense fights, and her mother had asked Stein to play babysitter for the weekend. It had been rough on both of them: one terribly unused to children and the other terribly aware of what a child she was. It wasn't the first time the experience had happened, and the fact it would be the last never once crossed either's mind.

This time, Maka's arrival is just as painful, but there are a few new buffers in place to help distract from the discomfort. One of which greets Maka immediately with a bear hug right at the doorway. Maka is not too surprised by the attack or by the amount of strength Stein's girlfriend possess, although the tears are a bit much.

"Oh Maka," the woman cries from her one caramel eye, "I'm so glad you're okay." She pulls Maka away from her bosom just enough to give the girl a good once over, then drags their bodies back together. "I'm so sorry I couldn't come over too; I was busy with work and just couldn't get away." Maka can hear the regret and tears in the other woman's words. Her long blonde hair tickles Maka's nose.

"It's okay Marie," Maka assures the latter when she does manage to escape her ferocious grip. "I understand." She sends the woman a soft smile.

Marie sniffles a little at the response before finally stepping aside and letting the two in. Maka treks into the house, her memory sparking at the old, reminiscent feeling of the home. It has been some time since she's been here, yet her mind is familiar with the layout and feel of everything around her. Her memories are interrupted though by the murmurs behind her. Maka turns to see Stein and Marie huddled together. Marie's eye tracks from the suitcases in his hands to Maka's own eyes several times.

Maka opens her mouth as if to explain herself with her own words, or at the very least apologize for intruding, but Marie cuts her off with a smile. She then ushers Maka down the hall to the familiar guest room and helps Maka get settled in while chatting excessively about nothing in particular. The act itself is so warm and foreign and normal, Maka can't help but drop her uniform jacket just to give Marie a hug. The older woman is silenced by the action, but returns the embrace with vigor.

The next morning, Marie makes a feast of pancakes. Maka eats as many as she can, with plenty of strawberry syrup. Stein eats his eggs from his own end of the table in relative peace, his eyes trained on the notebook in front of him. When they're done, Marie insists Stein give her a lift to school, which isn't refuted by any party.

The remainder of the week passes this way.

By Friday, Maka is mostly settled. Her new spot is on the armchair in the corner of the living room, where she can read in peace. In the distance, she can hear Marie humming from another room, and there is a soft _clink_ coming from Stein's lab.

The peace is short lived, however, when there is a nock at the front door. Marie answers it, her greeting chipper. Maka can hear multiple voices conversing down the entry hall, followed by what can only be a cheering sound from Marie's lips. She's about to go and investigate the situation when Marie reappears in the living room with tree other females. "Maka, guess who came to see you?" Marie chimes. She's positively beaming.

"Sorry to intrude like this Maka." Begins the first with an uneasy head bow.

"But it's been a while, ya know?" Interrupts the middle while examining a nail.

"Time for a sleepover!" Finishes the last, raising her stuffed giraffe up into the air.

Maka blinks, her brain struggling to understand the trio's demands. Eventually she puts enough together to reply with an intelligent "Oh, uh, I see."

"Doesn't that sound like a great idea?" Marie cuts in with an eager eye. She ushers the newcomers into the living room, insisting they put their belongings anywhere. "You four get settled, and I'll get some drinks." She then patters off to the kitchen.

Maka slowly sinks back into her armchair, book long forgotten. She eyes the three girls in front of her before finally speaking up. "You realize it's been years since we had a sleepover, right Liz? Patty? I thought we were too old for that. And Tsubaki, how did you even get involved in this?" She eyes her friends suspiciously. "This wouldn't happen to be Kid and Black*Star's grand idea, would it?"

"Oh Maka," Liz replies with a smirk. "You give those idiots far too much credit. Besides, this was mostly Soul's idea from the start." Her sister giggles in agreement.

Maka resists growling at her stupid friends and prepares to refute the stupid idea when a whirling noise interrupts. The noise slowly grows in volume until Stein's figure approaches down the adjacent hallway. Maka quickly realizes that the man is indeed rolling down the corridor on his usual rolling chair, and she braces herself for the impending doom of her godfather.

His resounding _smack_ on the floor propels both his person and chair almost a full foot through the entryway of the living room. Maka eyes him with slight pity but no remorse. It's at least the fourth time since Wednesday such an event has occurred. The man himself doesn't react at all, because it's clear that this action is no different from any other week of his life. What he does comment on is the extra females in his home.

Maka is prepared to explain the oddity when Marie returns with a platter of tea and soda. "The girls are going to have a sleepover, Stein." She sets the beverages on the coffee table and gives her boyfriend a look. "It's a fine idea, don't you think? Just perfect to end the week." Her tone dares him to disagree. He doesn't argue, but does manage a hum while getting off the floor.

"Yeah," Liz chimes in. She reaches for a soda and proceeds to make a wave towards Maka. "We have a lot of fun ideas planned out tonight." There is a gleam in her eyes.

Marie smiles at the declaration. "Perfect; I'm sure you'll have lots of fun. But, you might want to head to Maka's room if you're going to stay up late. I'm afraid that I do have plans in the morning, girls."

"Of course," Tsubaki replies. All three girls stand to retreat. When Maka doesn't though, Patty is quick to remedy the situation by dragging her friend down the hall.

Eventually, everyone is happily packed into Maka's room with all necessary goods and goodies for a sleepover. She's a little overwhelmed by the unexpectedness of it all, but Maka does find herself smiling after a while. Despite her previous thoughts on the immaturity of sleepovers, Maka is grateful for the familiar feeling of being surrounded by giggling, comforting friends.

At least, until Liz gets to her "activities of the night."

"Alight, time to do nails," Liz grins from her spot on the floor. Patty chimes her agreement and proceeds to set out the necessary supplies. Tsubaki replies with her own timid agreement, but Maka can feel an uneasiness set into her stomach. After all, Liz is a talker, and doing each other's nails offers a lot of drying time to be filled.

"So," Liz begins by dragging out the vowel. "What's new with you?" She has Maka's hand in her grip and the length of a nail filer poised for use. "Ya know, besides the whole moving out from your sex-crazed dad thing." Only Liz could take Maka's situation and make it seem like old news. But Maka knew that to Liz, family troubles were nothing really new and definitely not worth interest, so she oblige in ignoring that part of her life. Of course, the ability of escaping any other conversation was not going to be near possible.

Of course, that doesn't mean she can't try. "What do you mean?" Maka feigns ignorance. When Liz shoots her a dirty look, she rolls her eyes back. "Just tell me what exactly you want to know."

"You and that Soul guy." Liz clarifies. Maka sputters back, but she only continues on. "Just what's going on there? Made any progress since last weekend's 'not-date'? Other hand." She releases Maka's left hand and waits for the right to replace it.

"There is nothing going on between us," Maka replies with annoyance. Yet, Liz doesn't bat an eye, hand still out for Maka's right. The girl, though embarrassed about this conversation topic, relents in handing over her other hand. "We're just friends, Liz. Nothing more."

"He likes you," Patty sings from the other side of the manicure set. Tsubaki is busy tending to the other's cuticles. "He thinks you're cute!"

"How would you know that?" Maka questions back. Her face feels hot.

"I told you, didn't I?" Liz replies for her sister. "He was the one who asked us to come over here. Soul first asked Tsubaki, who mentioned it to Black*Star, who blabbed it to Kid, who insisted we have a 'girl's night' with you. That boy's really worried about you." She pulls Maka's hand close for inspection, blows on one nail, then releases. "Alight, time for a first coat. Gotta color in mind?"

Maka feels a blush edge across her cheeks, but she wills herself to remain calm. "Ah, no, not really." Liz shrugs at the response before looting through the color selection. "Anyway," Maka continues on. "That doesn't mean he likes me, _that_ way. Soul just feels obligated. I've dragged him through this since the beginning."

"I don't know, Maka." Tsubaki looks up from where she is painting Patty's fingers yellow. "Black*Star told me about some of what has happened. Not a lot," she amends with an embarrassed blush. "But, from what I understand, Soul cares about your wellbeing very deeply. He worries about you all the time; so much that it gets on Black*Star's nerves."

Maka snorts. "It doesn't take a lot to get on Black*Star's nerves." Liz snickers in the background. Patty cackles along.

"That's not the point, Maka." Tsubaki's voice is firm set. She gives the other a fixed look. "What I'm trying to say is: You should try and pay attention to what Soul's doing. He's trying really hard to be there for you. He cares about you. Whether those feelings are romantic or not, it doesn't change the fact that he worries about you."

Maka blinks at her friend. Then she blushes and squirms in her spot on the floor. Liz and Patty have gone quiet, and she can feel the all eyes on her. "I-I know he cares. It's weird, but he's cared about me from the start, even when we were just strangers on a bridge." She glances at Tsubaki, whose face has softened considerably. "But, I just don't know what to do. No matter what I try, I just seem to cause him more trouble. How do I even begin to thank him? He saved my life, and I just keep dragging him deeper into my mess."

There is a long pause. Suddenly, Liz grabs hold of Maka's hand. "That's all right," she assures. There is a nail brush in her hand, the bristles covered in a dark red polish. Her eyes twinkle as she smirks in confidence. "We've got all night to think of a plan."


	22. Him: 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Him: 11**

It's hot. Of course, it's always hot in Death City, but the heat just seemed to sneak up on him when he didn't think about it. Sometimes he thinks it is because of the difference in where he grew up and where he lives now. The stifling, dry heat of a desert community is pretty different compared to where his family raised him. But, a lot of things in Death City are different from that lifestyle. The environment is just one; yet, it's the people who live here that are the most unlike his old home. The way everyone just goes about and does their own thing without thinking too much about consequences or image is so foreign. He doesn't have to worry about how he is perceived by others because they don't care how he perceives them. The ideas associated with being in the upper-class of living are completely lost here.

And Soul loves it.

But still, it is hot. Though that could be because of the current situation.

Soul reaches out. His hand makes contact with the ball, which he immediately dribbles down the court. Black*Star is yelling just behind him. Patty is on his heels. He curses under his breath. The sweat is pooling around his headband. He can feel the girl just behind him, a breath away maybe. He cusses again. His body tilts upwards. A slight jump off his toes. The ball soars into the air.

After a bump to the rim, the ball falls through the basketball net.

"Hell yeah!" Soul can hear Black*Star cry out. A glance in the boy's direction shows him doing some sort of victory dance in the middle of the court. "Nicely done, my lackey." He strikes a pose where his hand is on his hip and the other points to the sky. Laughter cackles from Black*Star as he proceeds to gloat as though he made the shot himself.

Patty scowls while grabbing the ball back in aggression. She shoots Soul a dirty look, and he fears for his safety until Kid comes over to offer a statement. "That was an impressive shot. Three whole points, although you were too far to the left of the court. Next time, try to be more center. Then it would have been perfect."

Soul isn't sure how to respond so he shrugs. He can feel sweat tracing down his back. After getting to know Kid better, Soul knows by now that Kid means none of his comments as insults, but rather that's just the way Kid is. He holds no one to a high standard but himself, and those standards are not any that anyone else would even care to reach anyway. Dude has some serious issues with symmetry and order.

Liz has a smirk on her face as she approaches. "Just don't get cocky, Eater. This is only round one." Although they've been playing all Saturday afternoon. The older sister glances at the still gloating Black*Star, who Tsubaki is trying to calm down. "Already got one idiot on your team."

Soul huffs the air out of his lungs, too winded to laugh properly. Death, it is hot. He risks a glance to the sidelines, where one sole body is sitting on a bench next to everyone's stuff. She's reading, the nerd, and looks totally unresponsive to the outside world. He returns his attention back to the team though, because they are not inattentive and do not ignore what they should really just let go.

He doesn't look back fast enough, however. Liz is already smirking at him. He scowls at the mischief written on her face.

"Hey Maka," Liz shouts suddenly. "Come play with us."

"Yeah, Bookworm," Black*Star joins in. "Get off your butt and play some hoops. Your god commands it." Maka makes no move to acknowledge him, so Black*Star continues to taunt her. His words are less insulting as they are just plain obnoxious in Soul's mind. He wonders idly how Maka has put up with it nearly her whole life.

At first, Maka just keeps reading. Soul thinks that maybe she is lost in her own world, where everything she's reading is real and everyone else isn't. Then she turns a page. Once the page has been turned, she raises her hand up, flashing a rude gesture that lets everyone know she is indeed still stuck in their reality. And very much not interested in basketball on such a hot day.

The gesture seems to make Black*Star proud if anything, because he starts laughing at her choice of response. Liz cackles some too in merriment, and Patty giggles because that's just what she does. Kid looks amused while Tsubaki seems exasperated. Soul smirks.

It really is a nice day.

"I'm gonna grab a drink," Soul comments to no one in particular. A few nods are the only response he gets, so Soul easily wonders away from the mass of happy friends. He approaches the bench, and swoops down to grab his water bottle before sitting next to Maka. A few swigs of water later and Soul sighs in relief.

"Nice shot," Maka comments next to him. Her face tilts towards him, and Soul can see emerald eyes looking at him from under blonde bangs. She smiles at him before returning back to her book. A beat passes as she turns the page.

Soul hums, his body sagging back against the hard bench. His muscles twitch a bit, but overall it is a satisfying feeling. "Sure you don't want to play, Pigtails?"

"The teams would be uneven," she replies without missing a beat. Her tennis shoe taps against the concrete once. "And I'm not really in the mood to deal with that."

The "that" would be Black*Star's loud mouth across the court. He seems to have started some competition with Kid, although Patty is the one showing enthusiasm. Soul watches the group fight over the ball. A part of him sympathizes with Maka. He sighs, head lolling back so he can stare up at the blue sky. His mind can't seem to relax though, and Soul tilts his head to the right so he can stare at Maka instead. As if sensing his gaze, she looks up at him. An eyebrow raises as she gives him a questioning look.

Soul eyes her for a moment more. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. He isn't sure if he wants to ruin this by mentioning harder topics. He wracks his brain, trying to come up with a smooth transition to what he wants to ask, but comes up short. By now Maka is not just looking at him, but studying him too. He can feel her eyes rolling over his face, a worried tick on her lips. He feels bad, because any peace before has surely dissipated thanks to his terrible efforts. Might as well just finish this off before he makes her feel any worse.

"Listen," Soul begins. His eyes refuse to look at her anymore, and he isn't sure why. "Have you thought about it? Seeing that doctor, I mean."

Maka doesn't respond. He still can't seem to look at her. His heart feels heavy and constrained. A long beat passes between them. He finally manages to look at her again, and sees that she has a lost expression across her face. Worry, fear, nervousness, they all filter across those big green eyes. Soul frowns because he knows that it's his fault.

"I'm not sure." Maka breaks the silence. She's not looking at him, or her book. "I want to do what's right, but," she pauses and waves a hand vaguely in front of her, as though she were waving away smoke from her eyes.

"Something feels off." Soul finishes. He knows because his gut feels it too.

Maka hums. Her eyes focus on the court for a minute, then she looks back at Soul. Her expression has changed again, a nervous twinge behind a curious glance. "Well, maybe, we could go to the office together then and scope it out?" She offers.

Soul blinks back. "We? Together?"

"Ah, no," she backtracks, looking anywhere but at him. The embarrassment is written all over her face in the form of a pretty blush. Soul finds her antics adorable. "It's just, well, I thought it might be easier if someone went with me, the first time. To see the building, you know?" She shoots an anxious glance at him before adding: "I still don't know if I want to officially start going."

Soul nods sagely, forcing the grin to remain off his face. "I see," he drawls only because the longer he rides this out, the more funny faces she seems to produce. It's a little mean, but Maka is just so fun to tease.

She catches onto his mischief though, because the hesitation vanishes from her expression. The book in her hand is no longer forgotten as she raises it as if it were a threat. Which, it totally and completely is. "Soul," she warns with a scowl.

"Alright, alright," Soul relents. "When do you want to 'check the place out'?"

The book lowers, to his relief. "Oh. Would you be free tomorrow?"

"I've got work in the afternoon."

"Then, ten maybe?" She bites her lip. His eyes watch her without realizing it. "We could grab lunch after."

Soul blinks again. That almost sounds like a date. It's the first time she's ever invited him out to do something, especially with just the two of them. Ignore the fact they're going to see a depression psychiatrist. Well, even if that is the main purpose to their outing, it's still an outing, alone with Maka, and completely her decision. Plus, going to check the psychiatrist isn't a bad thing. He's glad she wants to at least look into the situation. He's honored she wants him to go with her.

He can feel the grin stretch across his face. "Sounds great. Want me to pick you up?"

"On your motorcycle?" She asks. There is a glint in her eye that he loves.

"What else?"

"Okay," Maka agrees. "Pick me up around ten at Stein's house." She looks happy with the arrangement, although she tries to hide it by sticking her face back in her book. He feels a soft smile dance across his own face. They both relax back into the bench. Nothing more is said.

"Oi, Soul." Black*Star's voice booms despite being down the court. "You ready yet?"

"Yeah," Soul calls back, although he can't hide the mild disinterest he's acquired in leaving this spot. He does get up though, with a grunt and shoulder pop. He doesn't have to ask for Maka to take his water bottle for him. She just does.

The sun bares down on them. It might as well be laughing, it's so hot. Soul can feel the sweat start up again. He jogs to join the others, ignoring anything else but the basketball back in Patty's hands. His muscles ache just a bit from hours of strain.

It really is a fantastic day.


	23. Her: 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Her: 12**

They wander along some street she's never been down before. "It has to be somewhere around here," Maka insists to no one but herself. Soul must understand this because he makes no response to her comment. Instead, he follows dutifully behind her, hands in each pocket of his jeans. The card Medusa gave her is out for reference, yet neither has spotted the building.

"Maybe we should call it quits," Soul offers. He sounds bored, but not actually intentional about leaving. As though he was merely trying to fill the space with something.

Maka shakes her head in return, her usual pigtails flying out and just missing retaliation to her face. "No, we're close. I know it." The next few minutes prove her right as the building comes into view. "See? Right there."

Behind her, she hears Soul hum in response. "If you say so." He's teasing, she's sure, but Maka shoots him a dirty look anyway. She can't let him have his way so easily. She's still a little ruffled about yesterday. Soul snickers.

The building itself looks normal, for an office building. Most buildings in Death City are older structures no more than five or so stories tall. Some are brick, some are stone, and some have metal plates at random blocks to hold them together better. Most all have windows. This building fits that description. What makes it stand out, however, is the list of businesses inside. Medusa's office is on the fourth floor.

The pair walk inside, and get on the elevator. Maka had argued for the stairs, but the argument fell short when Soul just ignored her. Once on the correct floor, the duo comb the hallway. There are multiple doors, yet none have a plaque. Maka cannot find any clue that tells if Medusa's office is here.

"Let's split up." Maka offers Soul a fleeting smile. "You go left; I go right?"

"Sure," Soul nods in agreement.

Three doors down the hall later, Maka is still no closer to finding what she came for. This is starting to feel like a bust, and she worries that she's wasting Soul's time. It had seemed like a good idea when she asked: a way to spend time with Soul and not necessarily be on a date. Liz hadn't been all that happy with the arrangement when she found out. In fact, she had looked like she wanted to rip Maka's pigtails right out the sides of her head.

Thank Death Tsubaki was there to play referee. Not that the other was all too happy with Maka's choice either. Patty was the only one who seemed indifferent to the situation. Well, maybe not indifferent, as her humored laughter was rather intense.

Maka wonders past another door, still unmarked. Her heart thuds loud as worry fills her. This isn't going right at all. Is it possible that they actually have the wrong floor, or even the wrong building? Either way, it's frustrating and embarrassing to be lost.

By the time she reaches the last door on her side of the hall, Maka is ready to call it quits. They're all unmarked—not even a number available for reference. She thinks that she may just call the secretary and ask for directions. However, as Maka is turning back around, she hears a voice on the other side of the door. She blinks, unsure if she really heard anything. Intrigued that there may be someone nearby after all, Maka leans in and places her ear against the door. There is a muffled noise on the other side.

Maka pulls her head away. The curiosity she's well known for is starting edge through and she can't help but wonder. Her hand reaches out for the doorknob. It hesitates before touching. She isn't sure why. Her brain has no arguments for why Maka cannot open this door, but her gut instincts are alarmed. Something is on the other side, and it feels dangerous. Again, she doesn't know why.

Maka opens the door slowly.

Inside, the lighting is low. It's close to dark, but not quiet impossible to see the contents of the room. A few chairs, a table, a person. They are standing in the middle of the room, but facing towards the back wall. A picture is hanging up, though the lighting makes it impossible for Maka to tell its image.

"…just the one way…" a voice mumbles out. Maka still cannot hear them properly, despite the door being open. She cannot see them much either.

"Excuse me?" She asks.

The other person freezes. They then rotate just enough to stare at Maka from over their left shoulder. A few stray strands of pink hair filter across their eyes, but the person seems too distracted by Maka's entry to try and fix their mass of hair. Their figure is thin and obscure. She cannot even tell what gender they may be.

"Oh look, another person." A gruff voice channels into the air. The unknown person does not appear to have moved their lips though. Maka can feel the air shift in weight. The atmosphere is heavy.

Pale eyes flit around the area nervously, but not seeming to see anything. "What do you mean, Ragnarok?" The resident of the room asks no one, their voice much higher than the previous. It shakes with anxiety. The person's eyes widen as they eventually land on Maka. The pale complexion shows nothing but terror. "Oh no. A girl. I'm not very good at talking with girls. They make me nervous." They don't seem to be talking to Maka though. "I don't know how to deal with this. I'm not ready; can you make her go away?" Their voice trembles and their shaking form is visible even in the terrible light.

Maka frowns a bit. Something's wrong. She knows they are not talking to her. But, if that's the case, who else could there be? "Are you the only one here? I'm looking for someone. An office, actually." She takes a daring step forward. The door latches close behind her. The tension in the room is palpable. "Are you alone?"

"There's only one door," the person replies. "It opens inward." They rotate a bit more so Maka can see a full left profile. Their body is extremely thin. Hip bones and collar bones are visible through their dark dress. They almost glow in the dim light. It's off-putting how much they stand out. "The door only opens one way."

Maka spots something odd in the other's left hand. It incases their hand like a glove, but there are no fingers. Instead, a big, black globe sits on top. A white X stretches across the entire face as if to act as the nose. Two white, Ping-Pong eyes with X pupils rest at the cross area. Little black nobs hang off each side, topped with white spheres, as if to resemble arms and hands.

It's a puppet. It has no mouth.

"Are you okay?" Maka hears herself ask. Her eyes stray from the person to the puppet dangling in their hand. She tries not to stare out of courtesy, but fails. The puppet is bizarre in her mind. She isn't sure what to make of it. Something is off. She can't figure out what.

"What are you looking at, huh?" The previous gruff voice screeches out. The puppet jumps from its lax state and seems to drag itself toward Maka. The other's arm is pulled forward as well, stretching out straight from them as if the motion was not their choice. Their mouth hasn't moved at all. The puppet jumps again on the hand and both cloth arms fly up too. "You're a rather rude bitch, aren't you?"

The insult catches her off guard. Out of habit, Maka becomes furious. "Excuse me? Who are you? What's going on?" Her questions are much more demanding this time. She isn't sure if she should glare at the puppet or the puppeteer.

There is a click and light floods from behind Maka. "Maka?" Soul's voice comes from behind her, but she doesn't dare turn around. Her senses are on high alert. The person in front of her appears timid and afraid, but the voice of the puppet is aggressive and mocking. She's not sure who she should be uneasy about. Is it weird to be intimidated by a puppet alone? The other seems weary of their own hand too.

"You should get rid of them." The puppet has turned back to its supposed master. Their arm curves so that the puppet can lean over the owner, as if glaring down. "Just get rid of them the way you always do," its gruff voices suggests.

The person cowers from their puppet. Nervous eyes glance everywhere. "The way I always do…?" The person replies. Their eyes are dazed wide. "No. It's not like before. The other ones were bullies. She's a girl. What am I supposed to do with her?"

A frustrated groan emits from the puppet. Still, the other's lips do not move. It is unsettling to Maka. She isn't sure what is happening. "What are you talking about, you moron?" It waves into the air before whacking the person on the head. It almost looks like they are punching them self. "Kill her." The puppet commands.

Soul is beside her before she realizes it. The light from the doorway fades away. Another click as the latch closes. "Maka, I think we should leave." His voice is hard pressed. She wonders how he can sound so calm and determined. His hand is shaking around her arm. That, or her arm is shaking in his hand.

"Oh, wow," the other murmurs. They seem to be ignoring both Maka and Soul. "You're saying I can kill the girl? I didn't know that. Okay, I'll kill her. It shouldn't be too hard. The door only opens one way."

"Maka," Soul growls. His hand pulls at her arm. It's a desperate, jerking motion. She can tell he's trying to get her away.

But her feet won't move. Her instincts say to flee but she's rooted on the spot. "State your name," she tries again, one last time. She isn't sure why. Her voice does not waiver though. She stands strong and glares down the other. "Who are you?"

The person across the room seems to snap out of their dazed state. Their eyes stray back to Maka, then possibly Soul, then back to Maka. A frown appears on their face. The timid behavior of before fades away. "My name is Crona." The puppet falls, as if lifeless. Their back straightens as Crona meets Maka's gaze for the first time. Their eyes lock.

Maka watches the other. It's like she's speaking to a different person. "I'm Maka." She doesn't know why she told them. She doesn't know why she asked. It doesn't make much of a difference either way, does it?

"Maka…" They seems to be testing the word. "Huh."

Suddenly, Crona races forward. They're fast. Maka blinks. In seconds, they are now within arm's reach of her. There is a flash in the corner of her left eye.

"Maka, move!" Soul yells.

Her feet work at his command. She steps back from Crona, years of both judo and kendo practice fueling her movements. The dodge is successful. Maka isn't sure what she's avoiding. It doesn't matter. Crona back steps enough to prepare another lunge. Maka catches the same flash of light, and she at least realizes that it's coming from Crona's right hand. The jab is aiming straight for Maka's gut. She steps away again. It misses. But not by much. Crona is fast. She can hear Soul cussing behind her.

She needs to get out of here. They need to get out of here. Maka back steps towards the door they entered in. Crona swings wide. She's forced against the door to dodge. Her back already against it, Maka panics and hits the wood with her shoulder in an attempt to escape. She can hear Soul yelling something about Crona, but the adrenaline clots her ears from understanding what exactly he's saying. Her eyes grow wide as Crona gets closer.

Her heart constricts. Crona says something too:

"You should pay attention to the things other people say."

Crona raises their hand, and Maka can now tell that it is a large knife being brandished at her. She hears Soul yell again. It's her own name falling from his lips. The knife comes swinging down in a long swipe. She can't run away this time. She's trapped with her back against the door. Soul moves towards her.

And then there is blood. _Everywhere_.

She's covered in it. _Soul_? Maka can't think. _Soul_. Her body shakes in terror. _Soul_!


	24. Him:12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Him: 12**

It starts the same way every time: dark, muggy, empty. It feels like he's swimming in pudding. Then a door appears. It opens. A soft light floods out.

_"Swing, swing, swing," the Little Ogre sings._

A jazz beat. With a tenor saxophone as lead. It's slow and cheesy; the kind of song that plays only in old, cheap movies. Soul hates it, because his heartbeat is forced to stumble and the match rhythm. Soon, his whole body matches the beat of the song. It funnels on repeat in fits from the phonograph.

_"Swing, swing, swing," the Little Ogre delights._

Everything would make sense if this was just a nightmare about the attack. It would make sense for Soul to feel some sort of trauma after being slashed open. It would make sense for him to have reoccurring nightmares about how he and Maka almost died. But this; _this_ makes no sense. _This_ has nothing to do with anything. This just seems to be his own little hell on constant repeat.

_"Oh, don't be so glum. Your own little hell? Don't you think that's a bit of an exaggeration? You know, we could have a lot of fun together, if you weren't so depressing," the Little Ogre complains._

The beat skips every so often. Especially when Soul is extra annoyed. The record needle jumps as if afraid, allowing a pop of silence before the beat starts up again. It would be funny, if Soul isn't so pissed to be there. In the Black Room.

_"I don't see why you hate it so much. You practically designed the place. Very smooth, so chill, a little gothic. Just your style, right?" The Little Ogre taunts._

It's not all black, but it is mostly. The accent color is blood red. A checkerboard floor, long heavy drapes, an end table, an armchair, a lamp. And the phonograph in the corner. There are no walls. There is no ceiling. It's shifty as fuck, yet Soul feels very much at ease. He hates it.

_"Must you always be so negative? Just take a seat. Standing there all angry and tense isn't going to help things, you know," the Little Ogre sighs._

Most of the time, people don't know when their dreaming. They just dream, and their brain supplies the stimuli without the sleeper's control or awareness. Soul knows though. When he's in the Black Room, he knows for a fact he is dreaming. After all, there is no way in hell he would ever wear a pinstripe suit in reality. Well, never again anyway.

_"I think you look rather dashing. Suits look good on you. Must be in your genes. We're like two peas in a pod though, dressing the same," the Little Ogre teases._

That's another thing that tips Soul off about being in a dream. There is a little ogre dancing by the phonograph. His skin is red, he has two bent horns on his head, and is a terrible dancer. He dances to the music all wrong; the song playing is not for swinging like that. Plus, his grin is disturbing, and that's coming from a guy with shark teeth.

_"Swing, swing, swing," the Little Ogre vaunts._

_"I think I've had enough of this," Soul sighs._

By now, he's over the insanity of this encounter and just waits for it to end. He's had the dream too many times to count since his arrival at the hospital. However, despite being aware he is dreaming every single time, Soul has had little luck in manipulating it into a better experience. He can make the record skip, he can get the light to flicker, and he can complain to the Little Ogre. That's about it though, so he is forced to sit and wait for reality. It's a slow process.

_"Oh, you don't like spending time with me? Where else would you rather be? Maybe you want to make-up some fantasy with a special someone? How ridiculous. Where do you plan to go, Soul 'Eater' Evans?" The Little Ogre cackles._

Soul resists the urge to screech. Even in his own dream, he will keep his cool.

_"Hm, well you're no fun today either. I suppose you need a little more time still. Better get your act together, Soul. Soon, you'll have to start playing for keeps," the Little Ogre warns._

Soul wakes up in a light sweat. The heart monitor beats in time with his racing heart, but this is easy to ignore. It's not as bad as some of the other times. He's awoken to Black*Star screaming in his face, and a spunky nurse smashing her boobs all over him. Both were equally nightmarish. Almost not worth waking up to. Almost.

There has been a few times were he woke up and Maka was there, worry within her big green eyes. Those visits have become less frequent though. They happened a lot at first, almost twice every day. Then, one day, she caught him in the middle of an examination. His chest had been exposed. He saw her eye trace the scar from his left shoulder to his right hip.

"Is it cool?" He had asked like a total ass.

Maka had looked like she wanted to cry.

After that, she would barely show up. And never when he was awake. The visits always ended minutes after he would wake up from the nightmare. He hates how sad she looked at those moments. He hates it more than being in the Black Room.

She's not here today. He wakes to an empty hospital room. It's the tenth day since his admittance and it's the first day of his release. Its seven days until Maka, Kid and Patty graduate from Death Academy. Kid had mentioned it last time he and the sisters came to visit. Soul still isn't sure why Kid brought it up. A part of him wishes Maka had been the one to tell him, though.

There is a cough, which brings Soul's attention to the newcomer in his room. He recognizes the blue eyes and dreadlocks instantly. "Oh, hey Naigus."

Said nurse waves lightly at him as she comes to his bedside. He can't tell due to the surgical mask, but he's pretty sure she's smiling at him. "How are you feeling, Soul? You are supposed to be released today." Her tone is solid and sure. Naigus is much more to the point than anyone else Soul knows. She's honest and sometimes blunt. He doesn't dislike that about her though. It's proven to be great for handling Black*Star's past visits.

Soul hums, trying to think of a good description for his state of being. He's lied to Naigus in the past, which she always caught on to but never outright scolded him for. Still, her silent judgment is more than a little intimidating. "I'm not as bad as yesterday," he surmises.

"Yes, your numbers do show that." She flips though the appropriate charts, jotting down whatever it is that nurses look for in these visits. As usual, her hands are covered in fresh, white gloves. "Is someone coming to pick you up?"

Soul shrugs. "Not that I know of."

Naigus's eyes droop, and Soul knows that it is a sign she is frowning behind the mask. "I'll call Black*Star. Someone should come take you home. You're still under some powerful medication; it is known to cause exhaustion and hallucination. You should not operate any vehicles on your own."

Soul doesn't doubt her on that. Though the idea of riding his Harley sounds great, the fact that he would have to maneuver it seems daunting. He's not in the mood to focus that hard. He can feel the fuzz of the medicine in the back of his brain.

"Thanks, Naigus."

The nurse nods back. "I'll take care of the call. You take it easy and get ready for check-out." She glances at the chair next to his bed. Soul looks over too and finds a small bag waiting there. "Maka came by first thing today with a change of clothes. You were out cold though, so she didn't stay long."

At no point had Soul ever given Maka his apartment keys. However, he's been pretty out of it all week, thanks to the drugs. At any point she could have collected them. He does not doubt her sneakiness in this matter. In the chaos of getting to the hospital, she could have taken them. Or while he was sleeping on this rigid mattress. Really, she could have even just picked them up while walking out the door. He wouldn't have noticed at all. And he doesn't particularly care either. Maka is probably the one person he wouldn't blink twice at for sneaking into his apartment. He doesn't know why. It's a strange thought to have. Must be the meds messing with his brain. He should not be so okay with a girl bringing him fresh clothes. They aren't even dating.

"Cool." Soul manages to sound bored. It's not that off from how he really feels.

Less than an hour later, Black*Star comes bounding into his room. Behind him is Naigus, looking both exasperated and annoyed, which is an impressive feat while still behind a mask. His best friend just grins as he shoots Soul a thumbs-up. "You're godly ride is here Soul. Are you ready for the honor of me driving you home?"

"Yo, Black*Star." They share a high-five. "Thanks for the lift."

Beside the duo, Naigus interrupts, "Black*Star, don't be too rough on him. Soul still needs to take it easy. The stitches are out, but the wound is still fresh."

Black*Star scowls at the woman. If Soul didn't know any better, he think his best friend was pouting. "Yes _mom_ ," Black*Star groans out, his eyes rolling upward in a mocking way. "I swear, if it's not you, it's Sid. I can take care of my lackeys."

Naigus seems to accept this answer, and she pats his blue hair in humor. "Good. Be sure that he gets to bed alright too. And leave Soul our numbers in case he needs something. I don't mind making house-calls." Black*Star grumbles again but nods.

Soul feels a blush across his own face. Not cool. But he's flattered. "Thanks Naigus."

The woman pulls down her mask and gives Soul a straight smile. "Don't worry about it. Any friend of Black*Star's is a friend of mine." She replaces the mask and shrugs. "Besides, Sid and I need you to stick around and keep an eye on him."

Soul laughs a bit, mostly because he isn't sure if she's joking or not. But, it doesn't really matter either way. He's grateful to be dotted on; it's been a long time.

They say their goodbyes. Black*Star takes his bag to the car. On the ride back, Soul falls asleep, despite not feeling the least bit tired. Must be the meds.

_"Swing, swing, swing." The Little Ogre grins._


	25. Her: 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Her: 13**

Graduation is coming up fast. It's all Maka thinks about anymore. She's made sure of that. She fills every second of her day with presidential duties, and when that doesn't work she finds someone and has them distract her. At first, Kid is more than obliging, as he always has some detail about graduation to nip-pick about. She usually ignored the more eccentric side of his personality, but given the current need for distractions, she welcomes every complaint.

"There are only two hundred balloons," Kid frets one afternoon. "Why are there two hundred?" His eyes stray from the order details to Maka's blank face.

"That's what we agreed on ordering," Maka replies. "It fit the budget."

"We should have ordered eight hundred. Eight is a nice, symmetrical number."

"We already paid for everything. There's nothing left in the budget for more balloons." Maka resists the desire to beat her vice-president over the head.

These sort of distractions work great for a few days, until Liz realizes why Maka wants distractions. After that, Patty runs interference every afternoon. She becomes so demanding of Kid's time that Maka can't even talk to him about actual planning that is actually necessary. The sisters show no sympathy towards Maka's frustration, and Kid is too caught up with organizing the confetti by color to realize what is really going on.

In the end, Maka is forced to spend her time back at Stein's home. She does homework and reads and helps clean, but it's not enough. Her nerves are jittery. She's often alone in the house and has too much time to just think; it's tearing her apart. All her thoughts are jumbled and she isn't sure what to make of anything anymore. It's always the same thoughts too.

Soul was released from the hospital two days ago.

Soul almost died because of her.

Because of her negligence, they were almost killed by some mentally-unstable teen with multiple personalities.

She's still not sure what in Death's name happened there.

It was madness, at the time. As soon as Soul was bleeding on the floor, the attacker had backed off, crying in their own form of terror. They had clutched their head, wailing like a siren. The bloody knife fell forgotten on the floor. Crona had screamed and collapsed as if in pain. By that point, Maka was on the verge of a breakdown, trying to manage getting out her phone. Everything was kind of blurry. Everything was a mess. Stein showed up, along with her father and Medusa. She's not really sure how they got there so fast, or why all three were together. At the time, it hadn't mattered. All Maka cared about was the blood pouring out of Soul's chest.

He lived though. Thanks to Stein's quick thinking.

The thought of Soul dying, especially because of her, makes Maka sick. She doesn't understand how this happened. She doesn't understand why it always seemed to happen to her. No matter how hard she tries, things just seem to get worse. And now Soul has suffered for it. Hell, he nearly paid the ultimate price just for being near her.

She can't let this keep happening.

She's been avoiding him. Well, at least, she tries to. It's hard to completely avoid Soul when she knows it's all her fault. So she only visited him when he was sleeping in the hospital, just to make sure he was recovering well. Now that he's released though, she cannot afford to see him at all. What if she makes it worse? What if just being around her is enough to finish him off? She cannot take that risk.

Her friends don't see it that way. She knows they could never really understand.

There is a ring of the doorbell. It stops Maka from falling even deeper into a fit of guilt. Her conscious back in reality, Maka wonders if she actually heard anything. There is a long pause. She's the only one in the house today, so if there is someone at the door, she wouldn't know who it should be. Maka isn't expecting anyone. Marie would have told her if she was. Stein never gets visitors, at least, not of their own free will. There shouldn't be anyone at the door.

The doorbell rings again, letting her know that there really is someone there. She isn't sure what to do. Should she answer? Really, there was no reason she should not. If it is for Marie or Stein, she can tell them to come back later.

Maka fumbles to the door. She adjusts her sweatshirt out of mere idleness, then looks through the peephole. A woman in a long skirt and tan shirt is on the other side. A strip of long black hair dangles behind her. Maka opens the door upon recognition.

"Tsubaki," Maka says with surprise but delight. She does not see the other often, given that Tsubaki is two years older. "It's been a while. Do you want to come in?"

The elder woman blushes a bit with her usual sweet smile. "Hello, Maka. I'm sorry to just pop up like this, but I was hoping you would join me for a little shopping?"

"Shopping? Like, right now? It's late for that, isn't it?"

"Oh, then dinner. Have you eaten? Let's do that then."

"T-tsubaki? Wait." Maka is forced to step aside as the other comes through the front hall. Tsubaki doesn't move any further, however, and Maka realizes she is waiting for her friend to get on shoes. "Alright, okay. Let me grab my jacket too." It's a little daunting how much that sweet smile looks sinister, but Maka doesn't dwell on it.

The two women leave in Tsubaki's car. It's a little thing, but it's reliable and the seats are comfy. The driver doesn't tell Maka where they're going, and the passenger is a little too put off to ask Tsubaki about it. Instead, they both just sit in silence. The car ride is fast. Maka watches out the window, realizing that she's not familiar with this part of town. Yet, there is still something about the buildings that catches her attention, like a faint memory. Tsubaki stops in a parking complex.

"What restaurant are we going to again?" Maka tries as she gets out. The reality is that there are no real restaurants anywhere near them. It's all residential. Excluding the random sketchy pizza shop four blocks down. Maka is well aware of this reality.

Tsubaki is adamant in ignoring the question, as well as Maka's face. Instead, the woman leads her friend down a familiar street. Maka can't place how she knows it, but she does. Then her eyes spot the apartment complex. Soul's apartment complex. It's ridiculous how long it takes her brain to comprehend what is happening.

Maka turns, ready to run. What stops her, however, is a muscled arm trapping her in a head lock. She struggles, even contemplates biting, but the arm is resilient. The man attached to it, even more so. It seems the more she fights, the harder he pulls.

"Not so fast, Bookworm," Black*Star bellows right in her ear. She considers screaming back, but it would only encourage him. "Time to face up."

A feeble, defiant _No_ is all she is able to hiss out in this position. However, it is no less fearsome than any other time she's been stubborn. Her rejection is undeniable.

Black*Star cackles back at her. "What was that? I can't hear you." He shifts his grip on her, like they're in some wrestling match in the middle of the street. Maka tries to use this to her advantage by stepping on his foot with her combat boot and twisting out. It works, but she doesn't run because Black*Star is faster than her. He's just as trained in judo and other martial arts as her. Honestly, the only way she ever wins in their fights is when she manages to out think him.

They square off in moments. Neither moves and instead they just stare each other down. Maka notes that the strange dilation of Black*Star's pupil is absent, which means he isn't outright furious with her. At least, not yet. She focuses on his feet, tell-all signs for what he wanted to do next. In the background, Maka thinks she hears Tsubaki sigh.

There is the slap of sneakers on pavement, and it confuses Maka because she's still looking at Black*Star's feet. He hasn't moved. Her body tenses anyway. Her brain reasons that it's an outsider, that she should ignore it. She does. The world is blocked out. Her senses narrow. Her entire being focuses on Black*Star.

Said opponent lunges forward. His hands are out, like he's going to make a grab for Maka's torso. Or maybe her arms. Her reaction speed saves her from ever knowing which, as Maka tumbles to his left and stands up just as fast. Black*Star doesn't look surprised at her escape tactic. They both know that this is just a warm-up.

Maka takes a few quick side-steps as Black*Star attempts more grabs. The goal at this point is to stay out of Black*Star's range. If she can do that, then all Maka has to do is wait for an opening or mistake and then run like hell. A stupid plan, in the grand scheme of things, but the only one feasible. There's no way she can beat him into submission. When in the zone, Black*Star thrives in close-range combat.

She steps back towards the apartment complex, her front still facing Black*Star. For a moment, Maka ponders a fake-out. She could act as though she would go towards Soul's home and then jolt down an ally instead. She's far more nimble than Black*Star. It could work, if the confusion stumps him long enough.

Maka twists like she plans to run to the street. Black*Star follows the movement, much to her delight, and Maka takes that mistake to run towards the apartment complex. In order to do so though, she has to pull a complete one-eighty. This is where things fall apart. Drastically.

As soon as Maka turns, not even two steps into her escape, she hits a wall. It's made of flesh, covered in a shirt, and smells like leather and musk. But a wall none the less.

The wall can talk, it seems, as the thing lets out a grunt. It also appears to have appendages, because they grab onto her and keep Maka from collapsing to the concrete on impact. They are warm. They are strong. They are sure. The appendages remind her of another time where she was grabbed and held and kept safe.

"Soul," Maka chokes out. She's shocked more than anything. The adrenaline is still rushing though her. "Soul." She doesn't notice her hands cling to his shirt.

Soul grunts again, arms adjusting to hold her better against him. He sends a glance at Maka and Black*Star in turn, looking both annoyed and humored by their antics. "I seriously can't leave you two alone. Are you actually playing extreme tag in the street? I'm starting to think that you both feed on each other's crazy. So uncool."

Black*Star looks sheepish. Over the blood in her ears, Maka can hear Tsubaki sigh.


	26. Him: 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

 

**Him: 13**

"Well," Black*Star hums. "It's not like that. Well, sort of?"

"Sort of?" Soul echoes. He's trying to hide his amusement, but it's hard. His best friend really is a funny guy, especially when he doesn't mean to be. "It sure looks like you two are playing tag. That or you're street fighting."

Black*Star snaps his fingers. His pale green eyes light up. "That's it."

"Street fighting?"

"Yeah, man. Maka and I are street fighting." He strikes what might be a fighting pose.

There is a huff from the girl next to Soul. "We are not," Maka insists. Her face is bright red. Probably from anger, but Soul thinks she's pretty embarrassed too. It's been like that for going on three minutes. He would be worried her head is going to explode, but that face is pretty amusing. "You and Tsubaki kidnapped me."

At this accusation, Tsubaki _meeps_ and looks away. Black*Star glares back at his childhood friend in pure defiance. Soul's a little impressed by his confidence. He doubts he would ever be willing stand alone against Maka's rage.

"You got into that car all on your own," Black*Star retorts.

"Only because Tsubaki insisted on having dinner. She said nothing about this."

"Don't blame Tsubaki!"

"Oh, I'm not. Only you could come up with a plan this stupid."

"Well, it worked, didn't it? You're here."

"Yeah, and when I tried to leave you put me in a strangle hold," Maka hisses.

"I was trying to do that one move, ya know, from the wrestling league, where the guy grabs—"

Maka stomps forwards and gets right in Black*Star's face. "Shut. Up. Just shut up. I cannot believe you right now." Her rage is palpable, and Soul wonders if he's going to have to step in, again. He isn't sure what is going on, but it doesn't take a genius to figure it all out. He should have known Black*Star would try something like this. And, while he appreciates his best friend's sentiment, a Rage-Fueled Maka isn't the best of surprises. Soul watches the two friends yell at each other a bit more, but neither gets physical. At this point, it looks like it is just pure stubbornness keeping the argument going.

Tsubaki, as if realizing this, steps forward. "You're right, Maka. I'm sorry for tricking you. It was wrong." The woman bows in punctuation of her apology.

Maka turns from yelling at Black*Star. She watches Tsubaki's apology with a little frown on her face. Then, Maka sighs. "It's okay, I mean, I get why you did this. I…" Maka sighs some more. Emerald eyes stray to Soul and he wonders what is causing the chaos to swirl within them. "I'm sorry too." She moves to stand in front of Soul. Her eyes stray away from his face, and she appears to be staring straight at his chest. She stares with big, sad eyes right through his shirt.

Right at the scar.

"I'm so sorry."

Soul doesn't know what to say. Well, he knows what he wants to say, but not if it's the right thing to say. He never seems to know what the right thing to say is. However, he is now aware of what the problem is: Maka is blaming herself for what happened. As per usual, she's taking all the pain and regret and pushing it onto herself. She's breaking away from him, trying to distance herself as if that will fix every little mistake made that day. Maka's running away. Soul can't stand it. It feels like every step they take forward together, Maka takes two steps back on her own.

The frustration is mounting within him, but Soul refuses to lose his cool over this. Getting mad won't solve anything. He needs to correct Maka's assumptions and get her to talk to him again. For Death's sake, they haven't had a single conversation in nearly two weeks. And Soul misses those cheeky little comments.

"Maka," he starts, because that's the one word he has the most confidence in. A deep breath in and out follows. "I don't want your apology."

Emerald eyes are on him in a flash. The shock of his statement is apparent across her face, and Maka's eyes show even more pain than before. It take Soul a second to realize how that came out, and two seconds to sputter incoherently. Why is he always so uncool in front of Maka?

"Wait, no, I didn't mean..."

Maka looks ready to yell and cry at the same time. Soul glances back to Black*Star and Tsubaki for help, but neither is where they used to be. Bastards. They ran away the moment Maka's rage was off them. Traitors: all of his friends are back-stabbing traitors. But, he'll have to kill them later, assuming Maka doesn't do him in first.

His hands flail out without his consent. "Listen, what I mean is—"

"I know I screwed up, but you don't have to be such an ass about it Soul," Maka near growls at him. "I feel terrible enough. It's not like I don't feel responsible."

"So you ran off? Disappeared? Avoiding the problem doesn't fix this. This isn't something that can be fixed. I've got a scar through my chest, Maka! You can't take that back."

"I know that! I know, okay? But, what can I do? It's my fault. I provoked Crona. I walked in there even though I knew something was wrong. I didn't listen to you."

"Stop acting like this is all about you. Damn it, Maka, it's not. It really isn't. Out of the two of us, I'm the one who ended up the cutting board of a psycho. So stop acting like you had control of that. Crona was fucking crazy. You can't predict crazy."

"You warned me. They warned me. Crona gave all the signs of attacking but I ignored it like an idiot. And you got hurt. You were in the hospital, Soul. You almost died."

"I'm not dead though, am I?"

"You could have been."

The argument lulls at Maka's whispered admission. It's obvious to Soul that Maka is experiencing terror, self-regret, and guilt. She's not angry with him, Black*Star or Tsubaki. She's mad at herself, and her weaknesses. Maka is scared of how little she can do on her own.

Soul sighs, the frustration of all this depleting with the breath. He understands where Maka is coming from. The insecurity with oneself is something Soul always struggled with, especially back home with his family. Hell, he won't deny that even right now, he has little confidence in himself. And it seems like the more time he spends with Maka, the more he seems to mess up. But, Soul isn't going to run away.

He eyes the girl in front of him. She's got her head down, arms curled to her chest, like she's trying to disappear right there in the street. He watches the figure before him, and again Soul I struck by how small Maka looks. Like that day on the bridge, she looks like a small child. She looks tiny and helpless and scared. Maka looks like she's going to cry.

Soul sighs. "Maka," he starts.

But she interrupts him, not with words, but with actions. One of her hands detangles itself from her defensive ball. It reaches out, palm open and fingers splayed. He watches as the limb extends fully and her hand presses against his chest. Soul can feel the heat from this contact. There is a fire lighting from her hand and spreading across his body. The action brings relief and joy and sorrow all at once because it reminds Soul of just how much he missed Maka. It reminds him of how little he had seen of her and how much that has hurt him. It reminds him of how much she really does care and worry about him. It reminds him of why he puts up with all the stupid and crazy and stress she puts him through.

He wants to hug her: to pull Maka in close and never let go again. But he can't because Maka's a small frightened little ball right now, and she needs space. She has to do these things on her own at her own pace. Soul can't protector from her own inner strife. So, to void the desires welling inside him, Soul shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweats. He stands still, with Maka's hand still on his chest, and waits.

A beat or so passes, and soon the ball is uncurling so Maka can look at him properly. Her eyes are glued to his chest. She seems to be staring at where her hand meets his shirt. He watches her watch him. Maka's eyes are not wet. He's not surprised.

She stares at his chest with wide eyes. It's like she's seeing it for the first time. Then, a line sets across her brow and lips. The hand on his chest curls the fingers slightly, just enough to change the touch from a press to a grip. It doesn't hurt at all. He doesn't stop her. Instead, he leans forward just a bit, enough to help her keep the grip to his shirt with ease.

Maka is now near glaring at his shirt. She's glaring at the chest beneath it and the scar now imbedded in his flesh. She glares at that mark. Soul keeps his eyes trained on her own, now alight with a fire that engulfs the sorrow once there. He watches as she seems to come to a conclusion. He watches her tense up just a bit before pulling her eyes upward to meet his.

"Soul, I…" Maka wets her lips, but her eyes don't falter in their certainty. She doesn't look away from him. "I won't run away any more."

Soul doesn't know what to say back, so he says nothing. Instead, he keeps eye contact with Maka as long as she will allow it. His head nods once. He doesn't know if he quite understands what she is referring to; she could mean that she's done running from him, her father, or something else entirely. But it doesn't matter. There is a promise in her eyes. The passion and conviction Maka feels is real. That is more than enough for Soul. This look alone feels like they have made a whole leap forward, together.

Maka's hand tightens once more before she drops it completely. Her eyes fall back to his chest, but she looks away from him after a beat. She sighs, and the action makes her whole body sag just a bit. Maka looks like she's lost all energy, as if that decision alone took everything out of her.

"So…" Soul starts. She glances back at him with an eyebrow raised. He can tell she's trying to hide her nervousness, but her body has stiffened again. Soul decides to skip over a few steps. He's sure Maka will follow. "You up for Chinese food, Pigtails?"


	27. Her: 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Her: 14**

The Chinese take-out place that Soul likes is about ten blocks from his apartment. They don't deliver, but Soul insists that he can drive over and get the food with no problems. Maka is not too keen on the idea; after all, he is fresh out of the hospital and on pain medicines and she would be happier if he just rested like he is supposed to. They argue about it for a good ten minutes.

Afterwards, Soul leaves to get the food.

She makes sure to hit him a few times when he gets back.

There is some more verbal sparring about mistreating the injured, but the two do manage to migrate into the living room by the end of it all. Both take a seat on the couch without prompting. Maka helps Soul arrange the take-out boxes along his coffee table in front of them, like it's some sort of feast. The room is surprisingly less messy since the first time she saw it, but Maka makes no comment.

"Where is my chicken?" Maka asks after opening another box of fried rice. It's the third one; just how many did Soul order?

The male in question grunts before pulling out a Styrofoam box and handing it to her. His mouth is already full of some sort of pork, but Maka can't remember what it is he ordered. Once she has her meal in hand, Soul stuffs another wad of food into his mouth and chews some more.

Maka wrinkles her nose. "You're disgusting."

Soul raises and eyebrow before shrugging. A moment after swallowing, he comments. "I've been starving all day. The meds they gave me make me super tired, but they also leave me hungry. Most days are spent eating like mad and then sleeping for twelve hours straight. It's like the stuff just uses up all my energy."

"Well, that's what happens when your body is healing."

Soul scoffs. "It's still pretty annoying."

The conversation lulls because Maka doesn't know what else to say. She still isn't comfortable with it: Soul's injury. Even if he tells her to forget about it or says it is not her fault, Maka still feels a twinge of self-loathing. However, she can't do much about anything now. Soul already called her out on avoiding him. And she promised herself she wouldn't run away.

"What do you wanna watch?" Soul asks after a few beats. Maka blinks back from her thoughts to see him holding a remote and pointing it at the television. He flips through the channels a bit before eyeing her. "There's a few channels that might have something good, and I think there's a game or two on." Soul gestures to the stack of DVD boxes by the television. "Or you might like one of my movies."

Maka scans the small stack of potential entertainment across the room for a moment. "So, it's my pick?" She asks, already setting her untouched meal down so she can scoot across the floor for a better view. She stops to cross her legs and begins unstacking the pile of cases.

Behind her, Maka can almost feel Soul roll his eyes. "Just this time, Pigtails. Next time it's my pick."

"Fine," Maka agrees with her eyes still on the movie choices, "but that means I get to pick the food." She tries to blatantly ignore the fact he's stating there will be a next time, but it isn't working. Her stomach clenches just a bit, and Maka isn't sure if it is from the fact she is agreeing to his insinuation, or from the fear of it being a slip of the tongue on his part.

Soul hums with what can only be false contemplation. "Fine," he agrees in turn. His nonchalance about the matter has Maka releasing a silent sigh of relief.

Maka scans through all the movies before her. She places a few to the left, dismissing them entirely for being stupid comedies. She never understood the entertainment behind dumb actions and sexist remarks. There are a few action flicks that she's seen in the past, and those Maka sets aside for a second look. She gets close to the bottom when Maka notices a very old, Victorian themed drama. It catches her attention right away because she never thought anyone her age would even know about the play-turned-movie, let alone own a re-mastered version.

"What about this?" Maka holds up the dated movie. She watches as Soul looks surprised for a moment, then shrugs.

"Yeah, sure, I mean, if you want. Just put it in my console, and bring me the controller." Maka nods once before popping the disc into the game console. When she comes back to the couch, Soul has already switched the input settings over and turned the volume up. "Are you sure you want to watch that one though? It's pretty old and very much about the dialogue. Even the few musical numbers are long winded."

Maka laughs half-heartedly as she settles back into the couch. She hands Soul the controller and grabs her food again. Two bites into the spicy chicken, Maka shrugs. It's not half-bad a meal. "I'm more surprised you own it, given the wonderful spiel you just used to promote the movie. I didn't peg you as the Victorian-drama type, Soul."

Said boy hums. "I like the theme of it all; the vibe is really dark," is his vague reply.

Maka eyes him for a moment, then takes a few more bites. "It is very vivid," she agrees after swallowing. "Anyway, I already told you that I like the classics."

The movie is nearly four hours long. It's to be expected, as it is a film based on a play, and an old play at that. The story is rich and twisted however, and Maka is absorbed into the tragedy of the characters. Their speeches are long, as Soul had warned, but the words and actions are dramatic. The music syncs up beautifully throughout the story, and the few music numbers are nothing less than compelling. Maka feels for all of it, but she does not cry. It takes more conscious effort to not do so than she'll ever admit, however.

As the last scene concludes and fades away, the music falls into a melancholy tempo. The credits, crisp white, fade in and out of the black screen. The room is fairly dark too, with nothing but a single lamp on to combat the late night stillness seeping into Soul's apartment. The credits add to the eerie drift with light flashes into the dark.

She's still trying to resist her emotions for the story, so Maka takes a few moments to shove the last bites of her meal into her mouth. She chews while looking away from the screen. She studies the flashes of shadows around her. Soul apartment looks far bigger and emptier in the dark. She had failed to realize how little furniture or decorations he has last time she was visiting.

Beside her, Soul shifts around on the couch. He had been silent the whole movie, only moving a bit every so often. Maka hadn't been paying all that much attention. When she looks at him now, though, she realizes he is asleep. Only Death knows how long he's been out of it.

At first, Maka is annoyed at him for sleeping through the movie with her. She had liked the movie, and Soul sleeping through it seems rude to both her and the story alike. Yet, as Maka debates how to reprimand him, she also remembers Soul's condition. He' injured and on a few medications, and he already told her how exhausted he always is. Most likely, his state of consciousness is not his fault, and Maka finds her frustration fading into something more mournful.

She uses the tips of her fingers to try and shake Soul awake. It doesn't do much, so she adds a bit more force with the next shake. "Soul," Maka near murmurs. The being in question stirs at her insistence, "Soul," she tries again. "The movie's over."

Soul grumbles out nonsense the longer she shakes his shoulder. His body tenses and relaxes a bit as well. Eventually, two burgundy eyes are revealed on his face, but they are warm and clouded over from sleep. "Maka," Soul mumbles, and it could have been a question for all she knows. She watches him watch her for a moment, a small sense of déjà vu washing over her.

"Maka," Soul begins again. He licks his lips and blinks slowly. "What's going on?" His body flexes on the couch and Maka moves back as she hears his bones pop.

"Movie's over," Maka repeats. Her voice is still soft. Her eyes watch him closely.

Soul hums as he curls back into the couch. "Another then?"

"What?"

"Gonna put in another?" Soul half sighs. He looks ready to fall back asleep all over again. Maka thinks that he need for twelve hours of sleep might not have been an exaggeration.

"No, Soul," Maka murmurs, confused but forgiving. The medicine he mentioned must be quite strong, she thinks. "I'm going to head home, and you're going to go to bed."

The other grumbles again, but Maka can't tell what it is he is upset about. She smiles though, because a tired Soul is rather charming in its own right. She spends the next minutes coaxing the boy up and into his bedroom. Soul is resistant only in the form of grunts, as his body complies with all her given directions down the hall.

She gets him into the bedroom with minimal injury to either party. Once there, she asks Soul to get into bed. He does, but instead of actually getting in the bed he just flops on top of the sheets and pillows.

"Soul," Maka almost whines. "Under the covers."

Soul grunts back, kicking his feet like a toddler in a swimming pool.

With an aggravated sigh, Maka sets to work getting Soul properly into his bed. It's far more complex than it should be, because Soul refuses to lift his body more than an inch when asked. Maka contemplates ripping his sheets on more than one occasion. However, her determination pays off with one Soul Eater wrapped in his bed. Maka double checks that his sheets are tucked in before turning to leave. Soul's hand stops her though. She turns back to the bed to see it clasping her wrist.

"Are you leavin'?" Soul asks, his voice less drowsy than before.

"Yes," Maka replies as soft as she can. At this point she's pretty tired too.

"Don't walk back."

Maka is surprised by the command. Again, there is more force in Soul's voice than before. He sounds more conscious and aware than he had been.

"I won't," Maka assures him. It's way too far and far too late for her to walk back to Stein's home. "I'll call Tsubaki or Black*Star and make one of them pick me up."

Soul's hand tenses its hold for a moment, but then his body seems to relax into the bed. "Good," is his returning sigh. "Make them get you. Don't walk back. Ogre 'll get you. When it's dark and red and jazz plays. D'you know, lil' ogre can'h dance. Buh he smiles weird."

"Yes Soul," Maka agrees with an air of humor. He's rambling now, and it's rather ridiculous, but Maka doesn't dwell. Soul appears to be fading out of consciousness; the ogres must be a dream he's having. "I'll make Black*Star come and get me."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Tex me too," Soul demands, but his voice is groggy. "And 'marrow."

"I'll text you as soon as I make it back," Maka agrees. "And tomorrow."

Soul hums, his hand slipping away. Maka moves back out of the room, her eyes straying to the white tuff of hair sticking out of Soul's comforter.

"Goodnight, Soul."

Soul's snores are his own special reply.


	28. Him: 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. It should be easy. All she has to do is lean forward and let go. Gravity will do the rest. She just didn't expect someone to care, and certainly didn't expect it to be him. A modern AU with trust on the line and relationships burning on high. Something is going to catch her, whether it be him or the rapid currents of Death City River.

**Him: 14**

_"She hasn't brought it up," Soul mumbles._

He's only talking to himself, although Soul knows the other being will still hear him over the jazz record. The saxophone wanes off key for a moment, as if in sympathy.

_"Perhaps she just doesn't want you there," the Little Ogre offers._

Soul glances around the Black Room, no longer sure if this constitutes as a dream or a nightmare. It doesn't seem to really matter; it feels like he's been having the same dream every other time he falls asleep. The Room is the same, no matter what. By now, he's gotten to the point of just sitting in the plush chair and ignoring the oddity of it all. Not quite rejection anymore, he admits, but not acceptance either.

_"Kid brought it up in the hospital, but even he hasn't talked about it since then. Maka hasn't even mentioned the graduation this Friday, and I know for a fact that that's all she's got going on for school," Soul grumbles._

_"Maybe she told the boy that she doesn't want you showing up to their graduation. She might be hoping you forgot," the Little Ogre taunts._

Soul taps his foot against the checkered tile floor. The thick sole of his cap toe shoes thumps loud into the room. The record jumps and skips for three whole beats. He resists growling in frustration.

_"Why wouldn't she want me there? I thought we had finally fixed everything; things went so well the other night. She seemed happy," Soul complains._

_"You must be joking right? As if she's just going to up and forget about all that. You heard her, right? You were in the hospital, and it was all her fault," the Little Ogre sneers._

_"It wasn't her fault; none of this is Maka's fault," Soul counters._

_"Well, it has to be someone's fault," the Little Demon sighs._

Soul frowns. He knows it's not Maka's fault he got hurt. He never once thought to blame Maka for his injuries. He told her not to blame herself, but maybe she still thinks he's wrong. But, he doesn't know how else to convince her to just let it go.

_"Maybe it's your fault," the Little Ogre decides._

Soul looks up from his musings to see the demon sipping so sort of wine. It's blood red, of course. The demon sips while sitting against the large record table. He's short though, so his feet dangle off the side. They're crossed at the knees.

_"I mean, you are the one who jumped in front of her attacker. Maybe if you had gotten Maka out of that room in the first place, you wouldn't have been hurt. And she wouldn't have to feel so horrible and guilty," the Little Ogre concludes._

The light flickers in the room. Soul's jaw clenches and his stomach knots as he contemplates those words. Could that be true? If Soul hadn't hesitated and had just ran from the start, could he have saved Maka from her grief? Maybe it is his fault that Maka is so sad. Just being around him must be enough to remind her of that horrible encounter, and the guilt that comes with it.

No wonder she doesn't want him at her graduation. There's no way she would be able to smile for everyone if he kept reminding her of those painful memories. His being there would turn her celebration into a party of misery.

_"Well of course you would. After all, it's not like you're are the most social guy in the first place. You too broody and awkward. You're impossible to approach too. Really, a guy like you at a party could never be any fun. But you already knew that," the Little Ogre rambles._

Soul tenses in his seat, eyes staying to the small red creature sitting next to the record player. The demon sips again from his wine glass. It seems that no matter how much he drinks, the glass never empties. Noticing Soul's stare, the demon grins a wicked smile. Rows of large sharp teeth glint in the room. The light flickers again. Burgundy eyes narrow and Soul releases loud huff.

_"Shut up," Soul demands._

_"You can't deny the truth, Soul. Just admit it. She doesn't want a sorry excuse like you around. You'll bring her nothing but sorrow if you stay near her. I mean you can't even get yourself out of a dangerous situation, instead you just walk right into. You're nothing but an embarrassment and a disgrace. You can't compare to a real man. You aren't even able to compare to your own-" the Little Ogre rambles more._

_"I said: shut up," Soul yells._

The needle scratches across the record and all noise stops. Soul is standing, a result of his rage. He doesn't want to hear anymore. It's getting too personal. It's getting too painful. He doesn't need the reminders or the stigma that comes with them. Soul doesn't want to think about anything involving the life he has left behind.

What he needs is to talk to Maka. Maybe an apology from him is in order, and an explanation from her would be nice too. She's still not at fault. Soul believes this.

He isn't sure how innocent he is though. And that's what makes the room warp just a little. The chair bends upward and the lamp tilts at a bad angle.

_"I'm leaving," Soul says._

_"Hmph, of course you are. Off to see your little lady. Have fun. Don't blame me when she runs away again," the Little Ogre grumbles._

Soul walks out the one door, back into the pitch black darkness of his own mind. As he crosses the threshold, his suit slips off him, leaving Soul in his pajama wear. He's not in the void for long, swimming out just far enough for the door to vanish behind him. After that, the darkness washes away and Soul is left in his own bed. He sits up slowly and assesses the room. It's messy and unorganized: just the way he left it. No doubt, this is reality.

He checks his phone. There's a text from Black*Star about a project or something, but nothing that actually warrant's Soul to care. He doesn't even have History of the Modern World this semester: like he's going to do the work for it. Soul puts the phone down, trying to ignore the mild disappointment in him for that being the only text he's gotten in the last eight hours. He never really paid much attention to it in the past, but being cooped up on medical leave has made Soul realize how alone he is. He's never really been the type to seek out others, but that characteristic seems self-destructive now. Who knew Soul could get lonely like this? Who knew he could crave human interaction after years of avoiding it?

Who knew he could want to see Maka again so badly?

Well, at least his forced leave of absence from school and work is coming to a close for this weekend. He starts up again this Monday. The scar is still sore, sure, but his doctor said that his weaning off the medications should help him stay awake more. At least enough for Soul to get back to work.

He heaves himself out of bed after a moment of just staring at the wall. Soul dresses in minutes and wanders to the main room of his apartment. His kitchen is sparse, or so he thinks, but when he opens the fridge there is a bag of unopened groceries. He pulls it out, opens it, and finds some random fruits and a note. From Maka.

He reads it twice, and the grin on his face couldn't be stopped if he tried or anyone else. She had come by to see him. Yeah, he had been asleep, but she still tried and left him a message. It's better than when she hid from him while he was still in the hospital. So what if they keep missing each other? Who cares, as long as Maka wants to see him, then that's enough.

Soul returns back to his room for his phone. Once in hand, he sends a thank you message to Maka, because it's an opportunity and he's not that big a fool. She doesn't respond right away, which Soul forces himself to not think about. Instead he shoves his phone into his pocket and returns to the fruit Maka gave him. There are apples and oranges and a package of blue berries. Soul has no idea why she's giving him all this fruit, other than it probably has something to do with Maka's obsessive thoughts of getting healthy faster. What was that phrase again? An apple a day keeps the doctor away: that definitely sounds like something Maka would believe in.

Ever since they made up a few days before, she had been very attentive to the fact he was injured, more than making up for the days she avoided him. He had thought it was just her being a kind friend, but after that dream, Soul isn't so sure anymore. He supposes that it should have been obvious that guilt fueled just a bit of her actions, but he had been blinded by how good it was to have Maka back in his life.

Now, he's staring at the fruit, wondering how to ask her if his existence is a burden.

His phone goes off, and Soul checks to see that it is Maka. He's surprised she's calling him. They never really did more than text each other. The last time he called her had been weeks ago, to invite her out with Black*Star and Tsubaki. That felt like years ago at this point.

"Soul?" The feminine voice begins, and it sound tentative and pitched through the receiver. "How are you? I stopped by a while ago but you were asleep."

Soul chuckles back, but it sounds just off. His mind is racing with uncertainty. "So I noticed; how did you get in? Don't tell me you made a copy of my key while I was knocked out."

"What? I did not. Black*Star is the one who told me about that hidden key. Besides, you have no right to complain. Someone has to take care of you; you're not very good at it yourself," Maka defends. Her voice sounds so strange, but Soul convinces himself that it's because of the phone. "Did you see the fruit I left you?"

Soul glances at the mentioned gifts. "Yeah. Thanks. But there's a lot there."

"Apples are good for the digestion and strengthen bones," Maka lectures. "The oranges have high vitamin C and will help your skin and bones and teeth. The blue berries are high in antioxidants. You need to make sure you eat healthy balanced meals so you can fully recover."

"You sound a bit like Kid. I can take care of myself."

There is a cough and stutter on the other end. When Maka speaks again, she sounds embarrassed. "I just wanted to make sure you ate right Soul. All you have is instant food. Or you order take-out. And with you sleeping all the time or being drowsy... I just—I thought I could at least help with this." Her voice fades out.

Soul doesn't know what to say. He's effectively squashed her good will because of his own insecurities. Why is his foot always in his mouth? Why can't he just say thank you and not destroy Maka's attempts at being a good friend? Now he feels like he's pushing her away, and that's just not fair.

He blames the Little Ogre. It might be more accurate to blame himself though.

"You're right," Soul concedes after an awkward moment of silence. There is no response on her side, so he plows on through. "I'm just cranky from being cooped up in here all the time. I thought getting out of the hospital meant I could actually live my life again."

Maka takes the subject change. "Cabin fever, huh? But you've gone out on your motorcycle a few times, even though you really shouldn't have."

"It's not the same," Soul whines back, only because he knows how Maka feels about his whining. "I still have to come back here. I haven't really been anywhere or hung out with anyone besides within my own house. I might start attacking the wallpaper soon. And I think I'm actually missing work and school."

There is a fake gasp on the other side. "Soul missing school? And work? You really must be sick," she teases. "But you should be free again soon, right? They can't keep you on lockdown forever."

Soul grins. "Yeah, I've been cleared to go back to school tomorrow. But the doc said to still keep myself in check."

"So no fighting on campus with Black*Star."

"I was under the impression that that was more your thing."

Maka huffs. "Shut up, Soul." There is some shuffling on her side. A voice in the background. Maka hushes them. "Listen, I'm kind of out at Death Square, shopping right now," she starts.

"Oh," Soul says back. His emotions due a nice flop at the realization she's out with someone while he's stuck inside. He doesn't know why he's so upset by this. Of course she would be doing things, and it's no big deal that someone is with her.

"Yeah, well, it's to buy a new dress. For graduation. My graduation," Maka rambles. "Do you remember me talking about it?" Her voice sounds unusually high.

"I remember you working on color schemes with Kid."

There is a rush of air through the receiver. "Right, right. Well um, I know you're still recovering, and it's short notice but, I'm graduating this Friday and I just thought... Well, if possible... Oh, never mind. It's not important."

"Wait," Soul almost yelps into the receiver. His heart is beating like mad. "Maka just tell me. If it's about your graduation, then it's important. I want to know."

There is more stuttering from Maka's side, but she does manage to pull a sentence together. "Do you want to go?"

"Go? To your graduation?" His heart feels like it's on the edge of a chasm.

"I know you're just now getting out of recovery and you probably have a lot of school work to catch up on, and I don't want you to feel the pressure to come on top of that. I mean, it would be nice, but it's not the most important thing. I don't want to bother you with it Soul. It's not the most important thing, and I know it won't be that interesting either." She continues on with this, but Soul isn't really listening. He's more concerned with how she's almost hyperventilating through the phone.

"Maka," Soul interrupts when she does manage to get a breath in. "I want to go."

There is a long pause. "Really?" She sounds distant.

Soul almost feels like laughing. He doesn't. It's hard enough just trying not to cry in relief. "Yeah. Definitely. It's not a burden, or whatever. And sure it'll be boring: official things always are. But I want to go." He does, so badly. And if Maka is inviting him, he practically has to go. "Besides, just sitting around while you accept your diploma will hardly be a strain. I've mastered the art of sleeping with my eyes open."

She gasps back. "Soul, don't you dare sleep through my ceremony," she warns. "Kid has been driving me up a wall with preparations. At this point, I want the whole city to see my graduation, and then I want to light every streamer on fire afterwards."

"Sounds like the perfect after-party to me."

Maka laughs. Soul manages a few chuckles of his own.

"So," Maka starts again. "I guess I'll text you the details later, but it's going to be all Friday afternoon. Are you sure you can make it? You don't have class?"

What did he have Friday afternoon? A few classes. And a job. Those don't really matter in the grand scheme of things though. "Nope. I'm all good."

"Ah okay." There is more voices in the background on the other side of the receiver. Maka replies to them, but Soul can't make out what she said. She must be covering the microphone or something. When she comes back, her voice is a little exasperated. "Sorry, that was Liz. She and the others are helping me pick out my dress."

Soul snorts. "Sounds like you're in good hands."

Maka gives one unamused laugh. "I swear, when it comes to fashion, she's nearly as bad as Kid. Every detail has to be so precise. My shoes have to match my accessories, which have to complement the dress and highlight my make-up. And there is no way I can wear my boots to the ceremony," she breaks off into a sigh.

Soul whistles back. "I do not envy you in any way."

Maka hums. "I'm just trying make sure she doesn't pick out a dress that's too frilly. Or pink. You should have seen the monstrosity my father picked out. He dropped it off at Stein's place earlier."

"I guess that means it's already being destroyed?"

"With luck," Maka mumbles back. She then clears her throat. "Listen, Soul, I better get going. Liz is waving four dresses around for me to try on. I'll text you later. Make sure to eat something healthy and get pleanty of sleep."

Soul nods, even though he knows she can't see him. "Yes, mom."

Maka giggles a bit back. "Shut up, Soul."

When Soul hangs up, he spends a few moments looking at the wall in front of him. There is a smile on his face. Then, he looks at the bag of fruit. The smile falls. He forgot to ask her about the guilt. He just let it go the moment her graduation came up. Well, maybe there was no need to ask, after all, she did invite him to her graduation ceremony. Wasn't that what all his worry and concern was about?

But, really, they haven't talked about the attack properly at all, when Soul thinks about it. They've argued and yelled and admitted a few things, but neither of them has really talked without the conversation blowing up in their faces. There are still some things Soul wants to get off his chest, and there are things he wants Maka to clarify. But maybe that isn't necessary. Maybe everything is actually okay.

 _"Well, it has to be someone's fault,"_ a voice whispers in the back of Soul's mind.

He wanders over to the counter and begins setting the fruit out. Each apple weighs half a ton. Each orange weighs three. Soul can't even manage the blueberries.

 _"Maybe it's your fault,"_ a voice snickers in the back of Soul's skull.

Soul doesn't feel like eating. He definitely doesn't want to go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,  
> For those of you who wondered how this updated so fast and by so much, you should know that I mostly post on FanFiction. It's my default, given I just joined this community. So, all the chapters will eventually be moved onto this site, but I will update FF.net first every time. If you want to read the latest chapter sooner, you can find the story under the same name, and my username is the same as well, at FanFiction.


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